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Robert Rorabeck
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Page 3
Robert Rorabeck
From Time To Time
Not That Hard
The Curious Fingers Of Their Open Hands
The Candlelit Cities
Her Brown Father
Of Such Silly Bliss
Until The Weathers Became
Of Everything That She Wishes For
The Favorite Colors
That He Took And Never Gave
The Nameless Children
Falling In Love With Foxes
Lunchtime
Like The Echoes Of A Baboon
Of Never, Never Land
Presupposing That Spring Had Come Again
Mariposa In The Bosque
To The English Professor
Don’T You Remember
In Forests Of So Many Far Aways
So Many Melanies
To Be Afforded Any Old Sort Of Wish
What Must Be Real
Gorgeous Youngish Things
Too Many Feet
The Only Way You Learned To Move
Nudging Her To Proceed
Underneath Our Semiprecious Sky
Two Brothers
The Mermaids I Love Are Praying
Really Quite Something
The Curtaining Stage Of Your Amber Sky
This Imaginary
Your Foremost Of Senses
Of All Of That Beauty
Shoreline Of My C
Shoreline Of My Canopied Pool
The Fetishes In Her Name
For Its Second Of Infinity
How Full Of This Knowledge
Figuring That I Have Everything Down
Blessed Ablutions
Because It Was No Longer Any Holiday
The Sweetest Songs Of The Innocent Cars
High Schools That Are Still Pretty But Probably Never Existed
Whomever It Seems That You Love
Boston, Massachusetts
The Happenstances Of Our Gods
The Possibilities Of What You Can Forever Mean To Me
Of Your Even More Infinitely Unmolested Shores
The Fattened Truants Of Fine Throats
Waiting To Grow Tall Enough
The Only Echo In The World
Thoughts Of A Dearly Innocent World
Making Faces With The Loyal Doves
Existence
Up Into A Blue World
The Indian-Gifts
Of The Kingdoms Of Far Away
The Very Thing It Is Weeping For
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