Robert Rorabeck Poems

Inside the socially acceptable cars,
Preschoolers in the backseat doing their arithmetic
And patty-cake,
Looking out at a day of shopping in sunlight,
...

It does no good,
The ebullitions I have meant to accomplish;
It does no good this- this thing-
My soul, a prize in the crackerjacks,
...

Going down,
Going down,
Going down and now almost all the way,
They say that this is it,
...

One highly functional genius
May loiter
At the truck stop for hrs-
And get nary a play;
...

Jerk my bones into
The desert for oil—

These seashells are
...

They flow in these blues:
The thoughts which mountains have,
The dazed carnivores—
The way I looked at
...

Heart attacks from
Looking at clouds;
These gods are made
From nothing real,
...

Scars
and Cadillacs
and push brooms
...

I work like a dog,

But I live inside
...

I’d rather eat dirt,

And f- excommunicated
...