Robert Rorabeck Poems

Clowns inside the spirit of the indoor theatre—like
Housewives spread across the backyard pools a mile away
From the sea—
Like diamonds spread across the mirages of a desert—
...

I still rise up from the wildflowers in their
Make believe graveyards, and I am still burning:
My legs may be still be warm on the trunks
Of the graveyard of your fairytales,
...

See your face, a new virgin seen in the snow fields,
Nothing unhealthy- a religious hallucination like landmines
And helicopters;
And your father steps out of the dark waif:
...

What is the day doing in its night,
Finally undressed with new predators and
Ghost ships,
The games of husbands and wives,
...

You breastfeed your daughter in the hedgerows of
Dear gypsum
In a still life beside the unruly stream where Joe’s
Brother drowned.
...

Come in again to my house today:
I welcome you: The walls are semipermiable
Like your skin, or your new
Hair cut:
...

I drink to you:
Since kindgarten I’ve stolen things and looked at fresh
Pornography in stolen cars,
Ladies in the chassies, like conquistadors in their dunes,
...

Barmaids in the sauce of waves- so bosomy and
Naïve;
I suppose in the morning the will be collecting themselves from
The lips of dragons,
...

And I love you;
I and loved you, and Mickey Mouse came up and
Farted in my scarred face
And showed off to his pretty princes and his unicorns;
...

Oh so you know that the boundaries shoot of like
Gloriously indigenous fireworks: green and green things,
And the old man in the sea, and love letters:
I misspelled my face between her legs and repeated the
...