Robert Rorabeck

Bronze Star - 2,196 Points (04/10/1978 / Berrien Springs)

The Ugly Soul - Poem by Robert Rorabeck

This soul is ugly- but it is my muse, lost in
A church where the rafters are burning-
And water snakes and eels are in
Her grotto,
Junked by stolen bicycles, while I kept nodding off
And robbing things,
Pretending that this was something excellent,
Like a Navajo that I once drove across the reservation,
Celibate for life,
Drinking from the checks of her tits- the ships
Turned to stone all around him-
Somehow believing that they would take him to see his mother.


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Poem Submitted: Sunday, May 8, 2011

Poem Edited: Monday, May 9, 2011


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