Robert Rorabeck Poems

A fire passing through the field does not
Wonder what she can yield:
The minnows’ joy is eaten in the shallows
And taken to the other side of the
...

If you flood in with perpetual vagabonds, how
Will you discover whatever was meant to be real:
As the remainder of that cavalry still struggles
To make it up the hill,
...

Billygoats in the maelstroms of their youths
Think about crossing bridges:
They don’t think about baseball games or
Football games,
...

Billygoats in the maelstroms of their youths
Think about crossing bridges:
They don’t think about baseball games or
Football games,
...

Forklifts of golden brown sunken into
The pornographies where the egrets high step
With eagle eyes, searching
For the foundling’s gold, as the forest
...

My childhood neighborhood lost in
A deluge of Spanish tongues- bodies wringed with
Gold- How far away they seem to have come
From her,
...

They get fat off of their echoes like
Tourists enjoying all of my scars- they just
Happen to shed their skin
As they slide in and out of trailer parks, and
...

I want to know what you owe on your house
As the starfish hold me close
To the ground echoing, and I still do not know
Which horse to bet on,
...

We have a forecast for echoing
Like homeless people wishing that they could
Be inside of their cars,
As the iguanas exfoliate in the rock garden
...

Brown bodies coming onto shore
Echoing with the horses in the well mowed Yard,
And falling in love with their cousins;
...