Robert Rorabeck

Veteran Poet - 1,996 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

The Pomegranate's Bitter Blood - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Never read out your poetry,
Because that makes you a whore;
When you see a star,
Lie and call it green;
Prick your thumb on it, and your prick:
Stare into a certain dream and laugh and piss:
Make love to the limbless on the back of a moving train:
In and out of deaf tunnels and the rain;
Bark at the jade dog, and then toss it into the flames;
Pin a live butterfly to your vest and let it pull you
Along the shady lindens of the promenade;
Never love her alone for too long,
Never her at all, if you feel you must;
Displace the lust into the spindles of the draping dust:
Because if you read out your poetry;
If you smite open the imperfect geode,
Spill the pomegranate’s bitter blood;
She will only laugh until interest is utterly lost;
And you, alone, will rust
And rust and rust.


Comments about The Pomegranate's Bitter Blood by Robert Rorabeck

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 10, 2008

Poem Edited: Thursday, April 10, 2008


[Report Error]