Candelabrums For Seahorses Poem by Robert Rorabeck

We happen outside into the world again today,
Fibrillating, saving our grandmothers- open mouthed with the
Fireworks
Leaping at first underneath and then over, over the great
Inner states;
As all of the world is collected, and put right here,
Candelabrums for seahorses,
Shrinking, then growing big again, like little kids underneath
The heavens of Christmas trees:
What it feels like as if to be alive in the traditions of make-believe:
A grave of wildflowers hissing with steam,
Realizing from the upward motions of the blue miners
And swift constructions of transcontinental railroads-
Laid between the comely passing cars, the heirlooms of ripe fields,
As all of it goes passing both and either ways-
A wound in the heart where the ghost of your mother can live,
Passing forwards and backwards, like a zoetrope without any foxes,
As the groves in the desert wait and wait
To give and give.