The Little Towns Of A Little Earth Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Young knights as green as scuppernongs hung on
The bowing fences of weak professors:
So low that the fable becomes completely disavowed,
And Satan in the form of a rood cross takes
Eve underneath the school buses, yellow and bruising,
She says his name like skipping stones in a canal
Which takes the place of the wisdom of a dictionary;
And all the nights are lost,
The foxes and zorros are pot bellied from having at that
Wine,
And they laugh atop and maltreat the head stones of
The gloomy cemetery where they have their fun, jerking off
And telling jokes
Even while the suddenly living world broils up all around them,
As if out of the mowed grass itself,
And is cantankerous across the little towns of a little earth.