The Entire Earth Soft As A Bed Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Not entirely silent pain- but nothing very educated-
I lay footloose down the runny easement, and by
Alligators am I congratulated:
And barmaids go around twirling brindled in their bars,
And sommeliers continue serving diamond dwarves
In the vales of deep mountain gorges;
What I am really doing is singing in the carport of the
Newly sweetened ride; my body thumped around
By the gosh-darnedest soul inside: a little child crooning
Across the dashing terraplane,
Zooming through the orchards, picking in his brain:
And the waves curl like lashes, like saddled rides;
And the forts of scrubbed coquina diademed by copper
Canons with loafs of teaming tourism inside;
And I have been to many fallen places, and I have fallen
Of myself- I have lost a girl who loved me, and who I loved
Myself- But the mysterious woods yet crenellate the horizon,
And there are necessary footpaths to choose from that
Lead every which way to the cemetery; but before all that
Red hooded girls, like saccharine poison arising;
And they will be needing guiding through the slender groves
To pick those sweet blooms who sadly are always dying;
But for awhile these fairy-tales are so finely boned as to be angels;
They are almost flying, and if I can keep their fare weather nicely
Planted overhead then I can grow restive and smile,
The entire earth soft as a bed.