The Way To The Fountains Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Late at night, or early morning
I dream of falling on my knees as
Deeply sniffing
Diana’s crotch right there in the
Morning of the fruit market,
Holding both of her legs like a wonderful
Crutch,
With my sister and all those buffoons
On-looking:

And she is just standing still, steaming like
A dream taken out of the oven,
Like a fish from its stream, wavering,
Wavering
Like south-Florida crime fiction;

And late at night again, like a zoetrope,
Lapping the orchid in bed, using my tongue like
A katydid,
The aphids hooting on their well-purchased
Stands,

Diana- Diana with her banner flowing;
And the sea is peaceful, and the sea is beaten
Like amusement we lay across,
And I take Diana
Hand in hand
Dripping of sauce and bloods
all the way to the fountains of my love.