Robert Rorabeck Poems

Fleet as the cannons go, coughing their verbs
Through the melting snow:
As it happens right here, along the long drooling jaws
Of the hermaphrodites
...

Oh, the black knuckles fought with orchids
Of the dwarves of semiprecious high school:
While I only thought of myself, and I curled that way:
And I got up late and I missed the bus:
...

It doesn’t happen that I am here and counting down
And brandishing magpies in my cathedrals,
And becoming all of the otherwise thoroughly unhooked,
And making love to the misaligned maypoles of the acolytes of
...

Lovelessly, enjoy the tennebaums of infrastructure:
Salient as a terrapin just knocked up at a
Bowling alley,
Jog your pin-shelled hips along the consumptive avenue,
...

Learning to taste the fiberglass of a reckless void,
Or that there is something beautiful in the sea
That really doesn’t belong to her, but
Just in the words of her high school that has blown
...

Slipping through the abandoning collisions of children,
While all of the adults have to sit a spell,
Because all they have learned about the world is that it
Is up to no good;
...

Through these warm collusions I devise the memories
Of the lonely romances where I once was a truancy,
Saddled up to highest cul-de-sacs in the patriotic
Foothills that coiled like serpents in love;
...

So overcome with a sadness that I cannot feel
The air conditioning:
I sit and eat in my little house and watch movies,
Waiting for you to call;
...

Chrysalis from a glass blower’s hypnosis;
Under the tinkering roofs, underneath the sun that is
All about metamorphosis,
The queasy feeling in the stomachs of little boys
...

Lost things parked on the road, and the satellites mew
As they fluctuate over a heathen’s suburbia:
And I don’t have to look away- but I do: there is wine in the
Glass,
...