Robert Rorabeck Poems

Lights in the clockwork of Ferris Wheels,
Or in the Christmas trees over mausoleums; or in the things
That they turn on in kindergarten-
Soft cooling promises like waxing window shades to fall asleep under;
...

Across the pastures of cold sleep never
Forgiving the stars:
House wives who look as hungry as wolves staring at the
Chickens hypnotized outside their cars,
...

Lancelot of the green heart and other
Immature words—
Had an illegitimate son as pure as many gods—
Who sat with the bangle tigers
...

Angels have earned the right to
Own knives, and to hold them
Over the bushes,
The airplanes have burned into
...

The nocturnal animal who feels alright to move
Into the middle of nowhere,
Underneath the bridge, the canal the cradle
For the lost bicycle—
...

Oh, you night- you poof up sirens,
Finally to uneasy capsizing bed you keep me from
Remembering to look at and worry
Over my face,
...

Bodies burn with yellow justice,
Or they have just been doing: doing doing,
And all of these songs are their offspring,
Just as there are so many people
...

I loved that mountain and
All she taught me. Until I went home
And ejaculated,
Had an affair with a Mexican woman,
...

Word of these broken phalluses has gotten nowhere.
No one cares to be wounded by
Impotent soldiers.
...

My body aches from end to end-
Where is she going,
I suppose from elementary to high school
Is her end:
...