Robert Rorabeck Poems

Do you realize even now, Kelly, that you are playing with
The Grim Reaper:
This savage scythe who will pretend to never touch the
Harvest of your legs until called upon,
...

Drops of passion from the second half of
Liquor bottle:
Now cops come and arrest me except that I am
Protected by the watermelon faerie;
...

It is better said when all the beauties are not
At home;
The way the sea sometimes comes in answering;
Oh,
...

I wish I could sing for you:
I wish I could step right out over the warm cinderblocks
And bare my ass,
Cracking jokes with the trumpet of that baboon;
...

Words knick knocking in tombs-
I can smell you when you are not around;
I can smell you like a bull of a god,
Like canyons of coral where cheerleaders bloom:
...

I try not to worry about things,
And I day dream:
The trucks come, and the trucks go:
Delivering to graveyards through the f%cking snow,
...

I wake up with booze and strut like a
Male peacock his feathers in the zoo,
Not knowing that he captured and partaking in an act;
And isn’t this strange,
...

The city goes home and bifocals in
Its wrathful arcade;
And you can tell that I have been drinking:
I have slept in my clothes for seven years,
...

Spume in the twilight of my senses
While the blind women have been touching the
Apple tree,
And I have been curling my toes—
...

They all turn swell in Ganymede's shadow—
While we are all just looking out,
And we cannot see just how she turns around—
For the trailer-parks as for the nimbus:
...