Robert Rorabeck Poems

Parcels in the grass and parasols over canoes to save you
From the shadow less sun as we go across the channel and caracole
The island I once waded to on Easter:
And you are not at my house right now, Alma:
...

The night is a night of brother less panthers:
Those beasts who don’t wear any shoes, and never get hurt:
They are hunting tonight and breathing out from the open
Windows of
...

As I drink my song, I become as immortal as any
Cherubic man out on the lamb counting is pearls and swinging his
Ham:
That I have escaped from the pallid banks where the ancient
...

The day becomes really grand holding the books that I
Plagiarize with so many javelins that burn my eyes
While my mother washes clothes in the carport with her machines,
As if it was a grotto:
...

When the bodies lay low,
They become the breath of whispers in side the shells
Of vanished homes,
While the Cadillac’s hustle and otherwise words make names
...

Having nothing to really show for ourselves,
And the show is done: the liquor is just the spit on our bottom
Lip and where will we go now:
Now that Alma is at home and fast asleep,
...

If you linger here, maybe midnight will find us both
Kissing in the graveyard:
Maybe Michael will read Mark Twain before he goes to sleep
Tonight,
...

I am not afraid of you because I have been sleeping
By myself for so long,
Listening to the wisdom of serpents and masturbating;
And you cannot save me
...

Your lips taste better than this bottle
Alma:
I know because I have tasted your lips today.
And how is that possible when you are more beautiful than
...

If I describe you fool heartedly, isn’t it that
I love you,
And I hate to go off and leave you to sell fireworks, just
As I hate the things you make me promise you,
...