Robert Rorabeck Carnival Poems

I’ve been out on the reservation but known nothing of
Its sorrows:
Across the muddy streets trying to move further
Away from my father’s horses:
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Over the eyes of the stomping
City,
I bought you pearls and then set out across
The waves to marry a witch
...

Drunk mothers
Get down on
Their knees
In the middle of
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Alphabet and tongue of rain—cleaning the indescribable
Rabbits in the aloe:
Toads underneath the mailbox—
Toads used to be tadpoles—Luckless ixoras in the garden
...

Revisiting her like
A machine gun in high heels from
The closet or
The constellations: they say that they have
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I think if you can live in your own carnival
You will do quite well,
Removed from the lilac farts of the petty
Bourgeoisie; for, if a part of the counter culture
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