I Dream Of Nothing Anymore Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I dream of nothing anymore.
The great sea before me is dead
And so thick with the salt of butchered
Tears that even the average man
Can walk across and
Pretend he’s God—
The seashore is nettled in briars
And blue suffocating jellyfish
Where upon scatting gulls blister their
Beaks, but devour their stinging meals
Heartlessly none the less,
As they circle mercilessly hunting a
Smothered heaven and cursing all deities….
The flesh rots off leviathans in the
Green and murky wharf, where the
Muddled water sloshes against the planks
Like something sickly asking for help;
And I lie there in the tumult of wrecked things,
The failed hopes of men the sea has
Spit back upon the shore,
Not liking the taste,
The broken bellies of sunken ships….
On the pasty horizon, the humid sky seems
To sink into the sea, to merge like a bloated
Angel too corpulent for its impotent wings,
As the sky is in a shabby dress
And always promises rain that never comes,
Torpid and sweaty nimbus the
Drawn curtains in need of dusting,
The veil I have never seen behind,
Though I know the sun and you are there,
In an early morning bedroom making
Love and feeding each other sweet things
As his light lies coolly on top of you,
So never do you hear the slosh and rust
Of my world so far beneath you,
Upon the infected beach I haunt like a blind
And ownerless ghost,
Between the burry sand dunes where the
Drowned sailors sleep like tangled nets,
And the sea like a headless graveyard stretching
In a field of ash, the cremation of my
Waveless heart, for
I dream of nothing anymore.