Robert Rorabeck Poems

Play with me before going back to sleep,
Because the cat has had her seven kittens like in a black
Box in the shadows
Underneath the penumbras of airplanes that go to read brail;
...

Alma, the suns of liquor burn my throat:
I am wearied and undone, just an illusion now on the
Deserts of my bachelor’s domesticity:
Your elephants hang above my head across from
...

If I loved the svelte aphorisms and I drink more
Liquor then who will save me now
While Alma is at her own house making love and
Caring for her children.
...

I cry in my house in Florida:
I cry and try not to breathe: the virginsita sits in my
Foyer as green as an aloe’s sheath:
And the cars gossip so loudly through the day,
...

You love him: the storm chirps, the liquor drizzles
Of my lips like rain:
My grandmother is dead in Michigan, but at least she will
Never have to be dead again:
...

The bodies pull their strings hard to the south
And the whole armada turns like boys in pornographic
Dreams who still have
To wake up early tomorrow to sound of into the sinister mirages
...

If I am going to die tomorrow: I am going to die,
Without any shade of mountains,
Like a naked army marching in without any shadows:
Then this is my chicken-sh%t denouement or something else
...

If I am just something forever used to keep busy
Your yawning afternoons:
Sending me up into the compost heaps over the ever
Infatuated room,
...

Your body pearls its flea market hearts as for
The decorations of
The cheap thrills filigreeing our favorite carnivals;
And this is real again tonight:
...

The clairvoyance of well shot and well
Hung words steals away my breath;
And they turn all of the sky and earth green under the
Parasols of comely hurricanes:
...