Robert Rorabeck Poems

Pray to the birds in the nests of their pallid moons:
Far above the broken shells and armpits of eaten conquistadors;
And there is nothing really beautiful with all of this:
I am dying for a muse who lives with another man:
...

After all of the liquors are gone,
And after making love and eventually children.
The bodies of once lovers arise and go their own ways,
While their cars sit languidly palavering to the
...

Now eventually we’ll have to peel away from mountains,
While the narrow gauge railroad still takes her tourists
Back and forth between Silverton and Durango,
Even while I went back to her and climbed her peeks
...

Fawns who play with bottle caps and fireworks,
And Alma is sleeping with her man and her small child
Down Cherry road,
While unicorns listen to mermaids glittering in the boudoir
...

I can tell the legends my song
Above the honeyed wheat and waterslides:
Here is where the milkmaids lie all the way beyond their
Men,
...

My body numbs by opulent venom,
Kissed by the lips of still bleeding venison:
And the champions have taken to the sky:
They have taken your hand, Alma:
...

If I became ant, wouldn’t you turn into a knife
And cut me to pieces,
As afterwards you helped Charlie divide the sandias
For the wilting glaciers disguised as old ladies
...

My ears are no longer listening to the lips who
Traffic in the sun:
My eyes are no longer marking the green cannons firing
Their captain’s guns:
...

Kissing the termite’s bottlenecked prize
On the highest shelf perceived by her eyes:
The planes go up and up until they get
Nose bleeds:
...

Building up dreams in palatial hair suits of loneliness:
Where the most diligent but fool hearted climbers disappear
In the highest slip:
And, like this, I have undressed you: I have listened to my
...