Beside The Glade Of Vampires Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Beside The Glade Of Vampires



In a little wood, beside the glade of
Vampires,
And blue faeries, up turned, flaming
Their waterfalls
For weddings of the passersby—
There lies the woman who makes the hills,
Her thies the weave of caesuras—
The moon a child of her bossom,
With airplanes and jets in her weedy hair
For barretts.

Thursday, April 10, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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