Robert Rorabeck Poems

Palindromes and paramours walk back
And forth in the night,
Tell each other secrets, kiss:
Floods of bicycles suddenly speed by like
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I haven’t been in to town,
I haven’t read a thing, though distant
From the inter-lapping hurricanes, it was
Where I was born, and still live cerebral,
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Houses I dream of,
Good enough for anybody out of sorts:
To move into the village by the sea
To watch the waves and my dogs lull,
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If I keep on going,
Tending until full season, will it release
A spell, a crooked scar of lightning,
A slightly poisonous kiss,
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Mother thinks there’s something wrong
Around my eyes,
She should know, its her heredity:
Too much caffeine and no sleep,
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In the rain,
In the end,
In the metropolitan museum,
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Never published majorly,
But far beneath the sea, while I
Wake up on Tuesday after a holiday,
Holding my breath as a school of
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Could I kiss you for a better kind,
Force words into you like the press of tongue;
It has been literally years since I French-kissed
An orchid counter-clock wise,
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Easily I die into the poem of her lips,
The stains on her cheeks from her addiction to flowers-
Let us say the light opens, hosannas,
They molest for hours on the cinderblocks leading
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If we were all Angelina
Jolie, and Brad Bitt,
We’d just spend all day fvcking,
But it would be the way Susie’s
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