Failing Tonight's Class Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I could buy a house now, almost,
And direct it over your grave- and mute you as silently
As anything so beautifully failed into the intricacies of such
A spacious earth.

And even now only a 100 hours after the nappy haired
President has laid down in ju-ju for the first time in the querulously
Painted halls who had previously mastered his grandfathers,
They are salaciously criticizing his first decisions,
Beginning the swift matriculation of his exploding-head suicide:

Even now, though, I am too impressed by my infatuations
With the voluptuously breasted bartender to give a damn about his
Midnight; In fact, is what I mean is I am too drunk to be writing poetry,
And then what I do conscribe is too wordy to be lauded by liberal professors
Who are recognized for their criticism;

Right now I might be yet too scarred to give a damn,
But I am working as steadily limbed as a Roosevelt towards my America’s
Well0built tomorrows to give a damn about grammatical errors;
Dreamily, I am still skipping seventh period history, and drinking
Golden rum from Bodicelli’s half a clam to give a damn about
What I meant to say previously;

Plathe’s Ariel is laudably fantastic, and I am leaping for it
The fable of the red haired fox with his grapes; when I am and so
Many others on their mortal fleet shall never reach it; Still,
I don’t care- I scratch at flees- Six years ago I played Mrs. Pac-Man to
The left of her, the yet single barmaid good enough to be a flight attendant
In high heels I want to come into:

I just finished fourteen pages today, living a life in a catacomb I’ve
Long since died into and thrown upon the oleander bouquets of another
Flower I am too drunk to recall the proper name of which I mean:
She lays down tonight in his He-Man bed, to drunk to also to be
With any other cartoon; but it is good enough,
Even as my scarred visage is being considered by two NY literary agents:

I forgive it all and will even give it time to nurture:
I didn’t vote for him, but have enough consideration to offer
The quaff of water from the palms of my immortal occult:
When they have given him enough time, there will be enough werewolves

Between he and his daughters to give reason to regret:
For now there is only history and the wide open deck of aircraft
Carrier on a secret mission, and her blonde hair flowing salty
And altruistically official.