The Seven Seas Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Spindling ablutions,
The catastrophe of the weathers above the ways
Out in the make-believe of an ultimately beautiful day:
The frenzy of kites stolen away from
Little boys,
Who know so few words as never as yet to have
Surrendered to the loquacious avenues that birth the
Fraternity of sea horses:
Poppy seeds in the air, making an illusionary breakfast,
Cantankerously up from their low birth,
Gossiping their tranquilities over the low flying airplanes,
And their majesties:
Demigods who float on the breeze, in a woebegone
And yet innumerable sisterhood all over the seven seas.