Robert Rorabeck Poems

Trying again, the young children yawn,
Hatching beneath the tombs- as all of the day is haunted-
But your body blooms-
Driving all day in its loneliness, and yet so
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As fires eventually die over the once
Laughing sinks of your own lips,
And the ships proceed over the banished
Senses of
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On every Christmas, the foxes strut out
Tender footed, underneath the marching band of
My heart while it is still alive,
Just as the fishing boats set out while the fish
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On every Christmas, the foxes strut out
Tender footed, underneath the marching band of
My heart while it is still alive,
Just as the fishing boats set out while the fish
...

Featurette of butterflies across the canal-
Or in the effervescing playgrounds where
My parents left me-
To piss my pants, as my very first sister
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Wind like Mexican tigers suddenly upspring,
Making me pause from where I’d been forlornly touching
These things;
And the pool is right beside me like a faithful dog,
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Candling ships of marriage vows-
I want to touch you in a playground’s house
Underneath the pine trees,
Underneath all the blue sadness and the silver
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Working girls out in their songs and airplanes;
All of it almost like a children’s lullaby, gone astray,
A truant from Disney World taking a leak from
The wonderful day;
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The agreeable bodies must have said dive like stars;
And she was very nervous, and I cleaned my
Telescopic spaces with alcohol;
And she asked me if I hadn’t come from the bars,
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I meet the girls,
And then I meet the ladies:
The Alamo is already coming down and
All the men are dead
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