[so, gather round where i
stand & listen:]
THAT now by autumn’s rumblin’
season; the world & Heaven’s
army is moving forward, to
war.
All within my closed eyes:
dream if i could — i would.
And now All is clear we’re
all insane under rows of
personae’s saber sharp-tooth’d
kiss and we, dear …are
bleeding beneath a lowering
curtain called, “The robe of
Ghosts.”
:: 11-06-2016 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 