Blessed By Seahorses Poem by Robert Rorabeck
Blessed By Seahorses
Impossible fume this heart
Reading new lines—sweating— sweating—
Blessed by seahorses
And things that don't go so well with the light of
Day—
The windowless room swings above the
Labyrinths into which we will finally be going home:
And a Mexican rides my bicycle to the supermarket
Tonight—
You who I can no longer write poems for—
You who no longer reads my poems.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/27/2024 10:37:02 AM # 1.0.0.1119
