Frisbee With Lindsay Poem by Robert Rorabeck
Frisbee With Lindsay
I’ll get drunk and try to emulate the Beats,
Kerouac wasn’t very good at it, but he’s still neat.
Then I saw the Congo creeping through the black,
Cutting through the forest with a golden track.
When my dog and I want to go old school,
I’ll throw a stick. Otherwise, we play Frisbee.
(And if you didn’t know, the middle stanza
Is Vachel Lindsay.)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/28/2026 8:40:29 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
