Naked And Inspective Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Wrecked in the fjords of green presents-
Diademed by the dead skin of dragon flies and their
Long forked tails-
The homeless knights, beards unshaven- are always
Sleeping,
Where the fattest wildflowers would grow,
If there was ever any light: it gets so much tears,
And we set up our tables
To sell the most humblest of things to the patrons
Who are not there
Anyways- Evaporated into the exegisis of
Sunlight- Now their wings are spread- and they
Are the voyeurs of fairytales where they are not
Pretty enough to
Belong- and we sing to them, our wounds cleverly
Arranged- we seem to be playing ourselves:
Until we are done,
And hanging on a cornice the blue eyed women spy
And come around us naked and inspective.