How I Feel Poem by Robert Rorabeck

All of this dying yellow:
And all of this:
All of this awakening from the graveyard-
And all of this make-shift
From the happenstance of conquistadors out across
The dime forts,
The car ports- and all of this:
Keeping time with the kings of no one and not
A thing,
While a one find time to hang himself, answering to
All of the yellowed courtyard,
And all of the diminished heirlooms:
Why who answers to who is not here anymore,
And not at all:
While it all seems to me happening to and waking up
Monstrous but luckily without any children:
And this is the offspring of my gut
Across the great lakes of Michigan or whoever it is that is
Not here anymore: shut in, this is how I echo,
While the fields and the playgrounds are filled with mouthfuls of
Mud, and my buried grandmother cannot sleep anymore:
Answering to the pallid echoes: this is how I feel:
And, echoing: yes, this: this is how I feel anymore.