Robert Rorabeck Poems

Anything that means anything
To me
Is a sadness- and, yes, the serpent
Echoes
...

Tables of really un-worked glory taking off
Their skates,
Beginning to see the glorifications of all of
The saints in
...

There you are underneath that grave in the
Middle of the shadows where I saw you undressed
And every dog sweated
And the heavens unclothes and the great men
...

Some small reward other than
That love I wanted to win- some little prize
Printed in the ink of zygotes spilled
Out on the empty sheaths
...

Toiling of problems upon the
Underside of littlest streams- under the light
Of her eyes,
A merry-go-round hardly breathing through
...

How goes the day in its boiling summits
As airplanes turn up from the ground, exhumed from
The bilious cages of
Ants and the baseball diamonds of ant lions:
...

Ants around her lips try to be
Obnoxious, as the airplanes clouding the sky
Like queens in an apiary:
Making up there so much love,
...

Northern forest without any flags
Or women
Where women are like flags, but
There are no summits
...

Epiphanies underneath the windows
Of society,
Where the little ferries pollinate quite
Readily:
...

Broken adventures moving against the
Stream:
This is my family,
And these are the few words I know-
...