The Flawless Ritual Between Two Formless Gods Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Engraft anything with a tree, and say
Is it not a beautiful two,
But I am tired of making sculptures,
When it takes so much bread and
Good grammar;
And the birds are unweary anyways:
They will travel south all the same;
And say now, there is nothing left that is
Beautiful for them,
Nothing but the park after the music
Has gone;
The leaves have dropped enough chameleon,
But you are still not athletic enough
For her to love.
Stand forever outside the student center
Nude as lightning and wait for her,
Call out for her like you would the mailmen
When wanting a christening letter;
And if she comes, it will be like the heron
To gawk: She has many changes, and
Many species of flora and fauna and vitamin,
And she’ll take many flights up to the points of
Her world;
But there if there is a soul inside that statue
You made immortal, it has want to move
Her lakes piqued and intrinsic quivering wave-lengths
For the monsieur’s of the football field,
The clayed and fine strata you have no business
Being out upon,
And it would only hurt you to take a look behind
The seamless door where you can hear her kittens
Blowing, the tangled infatuations of
The flawless ritual between two formless gods.