Robert Rorabeck Poems

Old new light over good sides of flesh
Sometime in the late early afternoon, washing
A piece: This is when the familiar strange traffic
Moves amongst the
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Sad that no one is reading the songs or the odes,
Sleeping in abandoned train cars,
Eating their breakfast, kissing horny toads-
And I am no longer in AZ-
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If I can knock the dust of that flint rock,
I’ll be the man who gets the pick of
The girls:
Hey-ho surely, surely now,
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Every mad bit of courage has a name.
I can stay here and love you, but who am I?
I won’t drink liquor unless I find a job,
So I may never drink liquor again- the way this
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I am the guy
Who digs with sticks
In the mud,
Who sometimes sings.
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Dove sail like gaudy Christmas cards between
The trees,
As my scars cast darker by the sun beside the
Swings and slide,
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This is what I want you to do for me,
In the land of the blue cabinets where the
Egrets are nesting,
Combing her hair along her bare shoulders
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Swimming with the cadavers of the young,
We pledge allegiance to the flag.
We didn’t quite finish school,
But we don’t feel half-bad;
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Diana has an
Open minded
Boyfriend
So I am back
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I eat kettle corn
And exhale through my sugar twinged
Lips,
And pretend that I’ve just come down
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