The Foreplays Of Thefighting Fields Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I am feeling good, while everything else feels
Unreal, while everything else feels good and If I’m naked
On Sundays,
And this is the most south-eastern point of the continental
United States,
And I have to apologized while I am even starving
While everything else is going down throughout the byways:
And this exactly how it feels, going down by
Norway’s;
Why, oh why, everything else is given to the tear ducks of my
Dogs,
Which works counterclockwise to my gods,
Which while any otherwise to my gods goes utterly unpossessed
Again last Tuesday
While the sun goes down again so utterly unpossed again
Last Sunday, going down again over the foreplays of the fighting
Fields who even after so many years aren’t even real.