Robert Rorabeck Poems

In prisms that happen outside of
School,
The fish swim upwards to look at knights—
Boys on quests with fireworks,
...

A life of loneliness lines the road—as people
Are going as they're told,
As their shadows are going all days of the week—
As the waters follow the contours of the creek—
...

Airplane over a rose—over an old avenue—
A place where my parents used to live,
A trailer park,
A used dictionary in the hands of a skeleton—
...

No more poems for my night of nothing,
My soul of nothing—
I am lost underneath the bus outside of the
Woebegone daydreams of a high school
...

Dying roses smelling of the putrescence of
The open throat of a sink—
Going down the many ways to the abeyances—
The movie theatres of graveyards lying
...

Cheeks lie scarred with roses in the clouds—
The apaches are approaching with intentions of
First rate abductions,
And I remember the wishing wells of your malls—
...

So soon a snake will see he has no legs
As he crawls on his belly underneath the airplanes—
Going to a hole in the wall or
A wishing well—going beneath your sherbet dresses on
...

Echoing in the dins of gods' descending messages
You sent to him while you were away
From his love,
Misspeaking yourself in the arms of a floating
...

Juvenile espionage poking fun at the cadavers on
Some midway of your old haunts, where over the shoulders
Of the fading Ferris wheels, you can hear the lions yawn—
Eating mouthfuls of mosquitos,
...

Pillbox of hammers upon hammers—multitudinous,
Exponential—missing items of the missing heroes—
And in the morning, as bright as yellow,
The busses overspill with school children,
...