UNDER the silver-eyed moon
where it always hangs
it spoke by way of Monday
i saw upon the horizontal
fence the eyes of a cat
too, its eyes spoke
and three eyes now
upon my soul, counting me
— five in all
Soon the clouds had shut
the moon, meowed the cat
and skipped away
leaving me with two
i could watch Rome
with five but two —
too few for my to-night
But the cat exquisitely ran!
But not so elegantly the moon!
And me, two eyes two feet
two glazed, too stiff
where i always hang
:: 11-11-2014 ::
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If confusion has you
(distance and emotion
means the heart skips
smoothly across wishes
of a dreaming spirit)
If you love
(me, i’m the agent of
confusion by way of
my unbridled mind)
a soul, the kindness is
smoothly a skipping stone
And inevitability is cousin
to fate, two clouds
serenading the sun
on Sundays the tears
of two hearts
shower-resembling flowers
like breathing-beating souls
:: 11-11-2014 ::
Leave a comment | tags: #abstract, #confusion, #dislocation, #life, #pain, #poetry | posted in #abstract, #confusion, #dislocation, #life, #pain
E.P. Robles | Poetry 