The Pictures From An Easier God Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Breathing heavily through a night of
Busted dreams,
Asking questions that no one has the answers
For, so right getting lies
That glow as brightly as the hypnotisms of entire
Orchards underneath the forgotten
Forts as squat and as fearful as terrapin
Kissing the currents of the grottos
And the hidden declivities of adultery’s truancy,
Like the lactating carpets of roses
That the tourists could never get the pictures for;
And all of this alone,
Said like a firework that goes off from the mating
Of two cicadas in the rut on green copper,
Kissing cousins with a penny’s worth of masturbation;
And maybe she will knock on my door tomorrow,
And flow in her tresses and flirting horns,
And berth me with kisses who are the accoutrements
To fires and loins;
And even if this is not so, all of this was said instead to
Her,
An Alma mated from the pyrotechnics of Spain
Howling in the Aztec geometries
That have saved us many times before from an easier god.