Robert Rorabeck Poems

Old memories of high school,
Like a vineyard tantalizing my lips from
The elbows of a voluptuous airplane—
While my wife whistles like
...

I drink from my living room—
It's as small as a shell—
With the television off, and all of the
Lights,
...

Horses run around and around
As my mother is coming home:
I want to learn new words for her—
I want to be a cat curled up
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Marionettes mistaken for beautiful children—
Or vice versa—you know what I mean—
I am getting drunk as my mother is coming home:
I cannot remember when she first took
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Joviality in the display of open-hearted
Race horses,
I still go out underneath the moon
Where all of the palm trees
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And the moon is a poem—floating azure
Over the cathedrals of the runway of
Another college I seemed to have attended
So many long times ago—
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In the middle of the dead-end street,
The flower opens its heart to a unicorn.
All of the latch-key children
Are across the canal,
...

Upon a crisp shore of grass
As blue as a cerulean egg stolen from
Some bird too far away to mention,
I will watch my mother lie down—
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I pass the bottle of laughs towards the
Tiger who is no longer leaping.
He has retired from his ring of
Predictable flames—
...

Not far from my eyes
In a jungle of grey and silver gold,
Where the conquistadors once fought for
Your mother,
...