Robert Rorabeck Poems

It is happening in the cul-de-sacs in which all of the housewives
Spume:
Birthing new likely cadavers into the worlds from the shopping
Malls of womb-
...

Crossing and recrossing the panhandles
We sing like jet planes to orchards: we sing as if we would
Have liked our father to sing to us;
And it all becomes a lesson better left unexplained: As Alma
...

I am only supposed to be awakened by a daydream
That has fallen too late, that has enamored too deeply into the shadows
Of a stream
Streaming all down from the mascara of her eyes, falling so far as
...

If you don’t wish for the job then I am here to help
Proposition you into vagabonding
In the penumbras of the most god fearing summits, where the
Over zealous bones of the hikers who knew no fear are
...

Work for me and clean my house
And I’ll wake up, gleam in my eye- and pay you,
Just as if you were my spouse:
And we’ll take honeymoons and fieldtrips and listen to
...

It feels to me that I am here,
In a candelabrum, in a sugar bowl- swimming around,
Looking out at the distortions of the dinner
Guests swimming like flies all around the caesuras of death
...

I’m supposed to be going
Back to work
But I haven’t been with you
For three weeks,
...

From each little seed
A candle tucks in
To the wishbones of its
Graveyards
...

In the retinue of
The carrion and paper airplanes
Contrived-
Careening forwards through the
...

There is a brown thimble in my soul:
It goes beating- beating porous- letting the blood and
Feelings through:
There are the rinds of acrobats in there too:
...