AND silence leaves no quarter
today as all the past by time
and walls divide insanity
that insolent corrosive lever
— what contempt!
Inside, beneath the rafters
upon the attic i watch
my thoughts at night: stumbling,
fumbling touching God,
archaic streaming prose!
When everything may have seemed
fine between the moments just ago
now a face of an ‘o’ as my thinking-
thoughting shadows fade away
i bury them within my mental garden
@ithin my head a cemetery
above my mind within the attic
where my thoughts are gallows
inside my empty home.
E.P. Robles | Poetry 