Robert Rorabeck Poems

Bodies, starting off by themselves, get to know one another
By interspersing:
I check on them as I go through my day, like a maudlin canoe
With over sad eyes:
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Deciding to start fresh every morning,
Pallbearers put any old thing into the earth; but bless
My soul if it isn’t a young thing,
Now just a pittance of dearth while the
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Cannibals slum as rain streaks the windows
Before el arco iris,
And I have seen her turning to me like a beautiful
Ship made out of the lumber of trees
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Even now the bodies burn with the deeper gentrifications
Of my new neighborhood:
Girls are looking gooder than good, as newer than new girls
Should:
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Unicorns kindle like the virgins of green suicide:
You glide over the sight of me with the age old religious wound
In your side;
And now I will live in a house as old as a Bible, and I will
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So you start up by pulling some machines by the rope
Around their necks.
And the lawns get mowed, while I am sure that I can fall in
Love with just about anyone as long as they are long hipped
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How to be beautiful at night all alone
Covered in a layer of sod, making love to no woman,
And minding no woman all the same:
I don’t know,
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Returned to the pinioned basins
Emaciated with silver, I recreate myself into something
I cannot remember,
Someone who I have always wanted, like a four door
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I’ll go back home to the love joys
In the sessions of hypnotism in their kindergartens,
Breathing like goldfish in paper bags
With their hands on the handlebars of plastic bicycles
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I very much appreciate breathing in the shadowed
Real-estate of your distance:
All the cars seem to be buzzing upward satisfied in their
Air-conditioning, while I get quotes on house insurance:
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