The Face Of The Heavens Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Experiment of my torches
Held out into the night like bouquets
Of volcanoes:
Lighting for awhile in the primordial
Half-light
Tender bellies of just born airplanes,
And the strange inhabitants of that jungle
Where in the rivers are still
Young-
Just flowing from her tears, as she appears
On the lips of the mountain:
And looking down she cries-
While blue rookeries crowd her eyes,
And take nest in her sadness:
Soon she will be flooding over the world-
A biblical flood,
And I will not know a single thing about
It,
As I lay in my playgrounds of corpulent
Flowers beneath her,
And her emotions make a flood plane of
My world,
But I will watch the flowers grow as
Fat as trees-
And I will climb up them in to that ether
Or miasma,
And watch her weeping down from
The face of the heavens.