For All Of This Time Poem by Robert Rorabeck

All of these times filibuster my lunchmeats and my sister
Wishes that she was bought out by now, and now the yellow sun
Kills through the bluest skies;
And if I had a stream then it led to your bedroom, and all of the night
Was young and filled with the bodies that couldn’t sleep.
While Alma was breathing and all the sheep were counting their
Fine corsages and if was such a disgrace to really reciprocate by the avenues
Of golden foreclosures;
And now I have some plants to sell- I don’t know how tall they grow,
But they grow, and put them up beside your house in your rock garden
And then you’ll know while your daughter is sucking tit in the ashes
Of her habits and I have loved other women by other men by you;
And I’ll be some mammals uncle while under all these haberdasheries of
Planets I haven’t though of you; and now you think that I have money,
Or that I have had the time,
Put I just press my fists deeper into this earth and smile up past the rest stops
And ask if you don’t have an answer by now for all of this time.