Robert Rorabeck Poems

Palaces fed in the shadow of my liver,
I had almost forgotten you:
And this place you forage,
Whispering all of your fairytales
...

Beautiful in the common place
Underneath the bricks of blinded
Rainbows,
As all of the parks wait in the recesses of
...

My words—vision of a blind man
In the vociferous shadows
Waiting to be fed from the mouths
Of nocturnal creatures:
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And the busied fruit market gone
With the bumble bees underneath the airplanes,
Just as my dreams of
Houses or marriages with you:
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Poem of vicissitude—of needle point
In the moonlight,
Underneath a skeleton of a lighthouse while
The airplanes are
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Yellowy embers in a field of burning houses;
An entire society of wives losing their places,
And giving their necks up to the
Leaping sea:
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Wound in my heart of
Valentine;
Looking through this thicket—the sun gets
Lost, won’t it be mine,
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Wounded as I am:
Looking at my neck over the fountain:
Try to leap over the mountain—
It is impossible, so have another drink again:
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Beautiful page,
Someone laid you beneath a helicopter in the
Dead center of a garden,
As the virgin kissed the snake who fed her
...

Imperfection at the sport of angels
All a wonder downed at the bottomed angles
At the circus,
Like racehorses beneath the midgets sunbathing to
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