Robert Rorabeck Poems

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621.
The Departures Of Her Grace And Rapture

I offer up goodwill to my soul;
I salute it with drinks and promise to remember it on its
Birthday,
And give it heartfelt consolations that it should have had to have
...

622.
The Prolific Stock Of Your Divine Hips

Homonyms of lovers city on the benches in the zoo,
While the rains patter on the Faber shay of my illusioned caves:
This is like the light underneath the decorative paper of
A Chinese lamp glowing forever
...

623.
I Continue Beckoning

Sharon, you give me the reason to live through
Another day.
Now I get all excited because I can hear the sexy voice
Of a low flying airplane;
...

624.
Her Pearly And October Glades

The rum was exquisite as a virgin: and girls from Spain light out
On the bicycles and
Roller-skates and they have no curfew and they don’t worry about
Making it back to the boat;
...

625.
With Hips Of Tattoos

Turning up for brail like children without any sense,
Wimpled in pieces of dismissive alphabet reaching for the
Sun:
You know that is just how your bodies are, like spindles of
...

626.
Wet Dream Of A Well Crafted Boy

Now through the arrhythmias in the screen doors of
Common hotels,
I can hear the traffic dismissingly burning their taillights
Like the devil’s lanterns, like the red tide of her
...

627.
Pickpocket

Pool and cuddle in the amalgam of
Centipedes,
Which is the same as seeing a fire’s orgasm
With the sky so alarmed that it removes
...

628.
The Fleeting Luck In My Paper World

The earth turns out for you on your birthday,
Mountains flatten on their backs like flea bitten puppies,
Or risky cobras:
You can walk on their summits like carousing your fingers
...

629.
Through Your Melting Snow

I have never been as perfectly proportioned
As the animals that you know,
But I can drink liquor and I can grow
Like wet castles
...

630.
That They Too Believed

I told her I would be quiet, and I have slept in phone booths
When the rains stormed down from the higher tenements, and then
We kissed and it was all surreal:
There really wasn’t enough to go around, all the Saints in green valleys
...

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