Robert Rorabeck Poems

I’ve saved up my life
To spend it all at once,
To live in poverty
In the diseased fields where
...

Overly persistent:
The pollinations of green words.
My novels get done in a week,
Then sit around and wither until they fall
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Say his name, and watch him disappear
The artist in the valley holding his guts,
The tassels of green, like a distended forest,
And his eyes the very surprised things
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Another orphaned day in whirlings
Around the sun:
The sad day of lashes, and her eyes
In distant faints,
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Preparations for warmth by wood:
There she is in the little cabin,
Smiling I suppose,
But her back is turned-
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Blind men are shushing in the mount,
The trodden hill covered with spectators
For another event:
The insects of the summer’s frenzy:
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Anticipating Messiah
Perpetuates this religion:
The reincarnations of
Jesus
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The dictum of innocence rests for awhile
In the polished clean mouth
Of the young crocodile....
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Die in the mountain’s demiurge:
The disinfected basins where god sends
His clandestine lights,
The undulations of a blinding harem-
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There were plenty of flowers at the funeral;
If I knew their names,
It would make a pretty list;
But I only knew her,
...