Lips That Can Describe Nothing Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Sea is there- cold sea, and the many
Legged serpent is swimming in
Her,
Tangled up in nectar and gills- its
Chorus crowding the waves,
As it swims with so many heads
That break as if monuments
Into the cloisters of sunlight spat down
From the adulterous heavens-
The serpent continues with the swimmers
In a hapless cornucopia
Of sinking Ferris wheels with too many
Axis’s- broken apart, a kaleidoscope
Of beasts no hero can conquer-
The very ends of the beautiful meaning eating
Themselves- going away to come
Again- the many avenues of a funhouse
Of missing and abandoned lovers-
This great thing is the centripetal force
Of stormy windmills- an assured madness
With too many sweet eyes, and lips that
Can describe nothing.