Robert Rorabeck Poems

Embittered dungeons milking themselves,
With all of the monsters in them,
Not one coral snake,
Not one way out of here—
...

Dancing in the cathedrals breached from
The mayhems—
And then their grandfathers died beneath
The mountains that themselves
...

I am writing poems
And then I will be joking
With the bottle:
It is my longevity,
...

Brands are burning in the sun—
The sun light is all but over
The trailer parks—
And even before the show is over,
...

Barbs in a fish provide the pain
Which eventually produces the jewelry of
A soul—
I stop wanting while the daylight mends,
...

When the houses are so near the school
That they can believe nothing else but what
The teachers seem to spell—
With their lecterns rising like torches in
...

You are pillaging with your cherry lips in
Autumn,
As the tigers feel homeless amidst the aspen:
And the tinkering buildings of blind men continue pell-mell
...

Boldest lies, you are telling a fanciful truth,
Fitful of wildflowers in the dells of your gold, and our aunt went
To Miami today and bought us two
Virginsitas of white gold that I will have to pay for,
...

The telltale signs I don’t believe in:
I am missing the rest areas, and my dogs- but the pain is
Gone with the seasons of glasses,
But Alma is also gone, which seems to be the aphorisms
...

It doesn’t have to be like this, even though
The day is gone over my shoulder,
As you have gone home to your family, but already I am
Wondering about what next time it will be
...