Pantheism's Ballet Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Golgotha is a special place with new fonts
Spuming ink;
I skip out from the horse-flies, and dally in
My thirty year old truancies,
Swaddling in curdled milk and alien sunbeams-
Then there is glory where it is almost getting
Too cold for butterflies to come and hibernate for
Awhile- Transmogrified, roller derby girls with
Wings and wedding rings;
And I can’t get the format right to sell it,
And I’ve lost my knees, so how am I to propose
To her? I am just a youth blasted by war,
My mouth is all I need to eat, a firework’s cone spumes
The geysers of a swarthy rainforest:
I let her pick the colors and then we roll around in
The jungle and get lazy, looking at the sunken riverboats
Where the alligators are bathing,
And from those esoteric windows, the long stringed
Orchids bulb and upspring, turning, like girls freshly
Picked from the ballet, their white arms unfold,
Propositioning the colorful birds of our gods,
Who have learned to speak.