Robert Rorabeck Poems

We can’t get married- the little princess tells me everyday,
Brown and dizzy, like Pocahontas on a seesaw,
Braving all of the elements that took her here across Mexico:
Now she wants a boob job
...

With symbols and bouts of glory cast your doom-
Foray out into enterprise,
Where the cats are expressing like horny violins
The things they say atop of
...

Couples look beautiful when they’re not yuppies-
Slightly beatnik, selling wines under
Pike’s Peak where the cars are making test runs
And the mountain goats are horny.
...

Don’t tell me your
Concerns for other people;
...

The sky cattles- up yip,
If that is what it does: the sky looks stormy while we
Have all gone indoors,
And my parents are coming home, and turning around,
...

I met a woman
Named Halloween.
She was already
Married.
...

Boys made of wood showing up in the glances of
Pinwheels
Painted in the sideshows of abandoned parking lots,
Like boudoirs for the shadows of an eclipsed
...

This is what I could afford,
This little house, a shell and shelter for my flesh:
I can hear the airplanes leaping above her yellow and
Spanish crown every day,
...

I have had dreams of Ferris wheels:
Oh, don’t you know- I have, swimming through the slow
And deepest seas of Guatemala;
And I have seen your silhouette in the fruit market,
...

The last thing the downed pilot sees
Is the octopus’ inky fear;

His victor confesses, he relives the startled
...