Robert Rorabeck Poems

Pitiful, yellow, and untrustworthy- but buried in the
Ground, you bloom like the best parts of your
Youth,
And the tiniest uncertainties of the earth flock over
...

I am the only one who
Org*sms
An origami jungle
Screaming in papier-mâché
...

What passions leave by themselves
From the sinking ship:
Aged body like a burned love letter
To the gods with gasoline on their lips,
...

Crepuscule in the mailboxes-
And another zoetrope returned to ash.
My favorite words lying with the rattlesnakes,
Like the bums beneath the overpass-
...

Made for the green terraces, with the sorority of moons
Above the unicorns,
Grazing- grazing and purple throated- what frogs and
Princes there are watching them,
...

Sore wounds of hopscotch:
The sunstones blistering their lips only on their cousin
Tomb stones:
The whole world a type writer being thrown-
...

Delusions of sawhorses who no what you are:
You make love in the park as your day
Transcends even housewives
In a chrysalis of metamorphosis-
...

Horses are green:
My house is yellow, but I am still right here:
Across from here, there is another house,
But who cares what color it is:
...

Horses are green:
My house is yellow, but I am still right here:
Across from here, there is another house,
But who cares what color it is:
...

Transoms of ekphrasis looking all right,
While the ripples of dynamite excite the alcohol in my body:
While I have been trying to spell
The four seasons while touching myself- and thus while the air-
...