Robert Rorabeck Poems

All the chambers of the heart are filled with
Roses:
And your lovely bedroom is filled with lovely poems
That wait for you to get up for breakfast
...

Your secrets laugh in secret—Their gardens are fully overgrown:
The rabbits are entombed in their gardens,
The labyrinths of evaporated giants lingering across the loams:
And this is my avoidance in which I have kept an
...

The streetlight's fiasco keeps to itself underneath the
Spume of wildhorses,
And this is just a relief as another day stops its echo
As a weakness—and this is a weakness,
...

Finally filled up with all of the
Beautiful sounds of the winds,
Angels rest beneath the Christmas trees,
Knuckles entwined like
...

Today we are looking in at the sons of Walt Whitman
And the torpedoes floating softly beyond the stained glass windows
Just on the other side of the hypocrisies of the church
That has sunken with the tears from the girl you abandoned:
...

I get up into the affections where
The airplanes get so nettled,
Like the city fallen into the forest
Or my heart in the wires of the gutter—
...

Isn’t it beauty, getting drunk and remembering
The lies she whispered sp beautifully
Underneath the overpasses above the scars
Before it got time to be Christmas and then any of
...

Tired of the arboretum,
The butterflies disperse with the tourists or,
At least,
The stewardesses:
...

Moon dust in the tears of your own god—
My cup is cracked, wanting to be a bowl
For your vanity of seashells—
How about you going home to him day to day,
...

Yellow paper making out of us Pharisees- and
Other plagiarisms in the church-
While our grandmothers rested in graveyards,
And the cars drove
...