a finger unbuttons the sky
blue spills out like old music
& a fish recites the alphabet
backward — in Braille —
on the walls of your skull
your thoughts wear ballet shoes
tied by the tongues of clocks
—time hiccups—
and your name dissolves
into a bouquet of
untranslatable
questions
meanwhile
the moon paints your shadow
on the inside of my ribs
with feathers stolen
from a blind swan’s dream
:: 04.01.2025 ::
WHEN I WAS
When she was
stiff and brand new—
she breathed only halfway,
like I did
when I came back from death,
a soft weight
wrapped in my mother’s arms
running toward
fluorescent salvation.
there was a cost—
you feel it in the joints,
in the clicks of becoming
a machine,
an engine,
a child
re-learning breath.
i touched her gently—
checked her rhythm,
spoke to her warmth.
turned the key
like i once turned back
to this world.
she sputtered,
jerked—
the way i did
before memory locked in.
and slowly,
we found our motion.
low to second to high—
the hum like heartbeat.
around the corner of something divine
i pressed down,
gave her the juice—
and she came alive.
first ride,
first taste,
and we both knew—
this was joy borrowed
from some distant grief.
on return,
i stopped her with care—
both hands—
brought her trembling
into quiet.
as I once was.
as I still am.
giving you
what’s left of the cake.
IS there a time
where everything
is okay? I’d never
forget where you were
at all when realizing
reality is not
what we think
but always what we feel
~~ so clear the tears/like
ice melting \ it bruised
our face:
The “feeling” of reality
is not scientifically correct
but romantically perfect.
and how i love you
and everyone in your time
\.
:: 03.06.2025 ::
the title is not a poem
but a thesis
I am the word before it’s breathed,
a whisper caught in fate’s own weave.
A thought unshaped, yet burning bright,
a flicker lost between the night.
I am the ink that mourns the quill,
the silence longing to be filled.
A stanza stitched in fleeting thread,
a lyric born when stars have bled.
I am the page the wind has turned,
the ember’s ghost, the lesson learned.
A voice that lingers past the crest
of dying light and hearts confessed.
I am the poet, yet the muse,
the echo sung in verses bruised.
And when the final breath is drawn,
I’ll live within the words once gone.
LUDWIG
The Unheard Symphony
The Silence played so loud it broke
The air within the Room
A Fugue unwoven Measureless
A Chord of Soundless Doom
The Fingers of the Tempest stirred
The Notes refused to bow
Yet in the hush an Echo rang
Beyond the Mortal brow
The Violin was never struck
The Keys denied their plea
And yet a Symphony arose
Conducted wordlessly
A God unseen His Hands became
The Whisper in the Air
And in that Soundless Thundering
The Deaf Composer Heard.
:: 01.31.2025 ::
I climbed beneath their tempest guise,
Not cruel—but wondrous, wild—
Their tongues, like serpents, wove the skies,
And bade me be beguiled.
Their muses danced in frenzied streams,
A chaos, deep, divine—
I felt them tear my tethered dreams,
To fashion them as mine.
They stripped me to a vital beat,
No thought, no flesh remained—
But pulses rising, stark and fleet,
By holy torrents chained.
Her voice—a middle path untold—
Did whisper through my bone,
A force that breaks, yet gently molds,
And claims my craft her own.
No mercy in her artful fire,
Yet none would I beseech—
For every line she might inspire
Lies just beyond my reach.
O gods who sing and chaos bring,
Your wild winds are my home—
A vessel frail, I learn to cling,
To storms that bid me roam.
:: 01.15.2025 ::
Your smile an Arc of Mystery!
Your eyes a Silver Gleam
Your form a Sculptor’s Whisper
Your hands a Midnight Dream.
Your feet a Sacred Compass
To Worlds I’ve never known
Your grace my fleeting Fetish
A Heaven, all my own.
Oh, let me gaze Eternally!
On features etched in Light
For Love, a fleeting Shadow,
Becomes the Endless Night.
Invincible.
:: 01.13.2025 ::
The Vastness, Stars!
To witness the vastness, stars!
Above my chin, a miracle bars—
The skies! the skies!
The burning light! What bright boroughs,
Circle-cities spun in furrows,
Where fire flies!
How bent my knee with moss now—
Dim woods, where elves delve, bow!
A whitebeam blares!
The torrential winds and rains—
Unable to cover fire’s refrains—
The grey lawn glares!
Cold the gold, where quickgold lies,
Wind-beat whitebeam! Airy abeles rise!
Set flare and sing!
Flake-doves, afloat, at a farmyard scare—
Flurry! Fury! Heaven’s breath lays bare—
Ah well! a prize this thing!
O lightnings leap! O quicksilver streak!
Vault the vault! Heaven’s bright beak,
Peck forth day’s bright bread!
Or whisper soft in a shadow-wind glen,
The hawthorn thrills, its heart unpenned,
Each branch breaks red!
Oh, all! This glory! All is a gaze —
God’s purchase pure, in love’s deep blaze,
Writ on the world’s face.
:: 01.09.2025 ::
Her nails bloom black as moons on trembling stems,
Whispering secrets to the midnight’s hems.
Anxiety, a serpent made of light,
Coils through the cracks of fractured night.
The Phoenix, laughing, eats itself anew,
Its ashes drift as stars in seas of blue.
No urn contains the echoes of its cries;
They bloom as cities in forgotten skies.
Upon the shelves, the objects start to hum—
A hollow ptyx becomes a beating drum.
The Master dives into the Styx’s glow,
To barter with the river’s undertow.
Through broken panes, the northern lights take root,
Growing unicorns of fire and fruit.
Their breath, a snowstorm made of molten clocks,
Consumes the void with gilded paradox.
The glass dissolves; the room becomes a field,
Where time unravels and the stars are sealed.
She floats, a mirror melting into air,
Her edges bleed with colors sharp and rare.
A septet of her faces sings in waves,
Their voices shape the rhythms of her graves.
Yet every note unfurls a phantom wing—
A song that only burning angels sing.
Oh, fleeting ghost of dreams and shadowed hue,
Your face dissolves into a different you.
For here, where time and space collapse in kind,
The soul unthreads the labyrinth of mind.
:: 12.28.2024 ::
(a universe) unfolds
between your( hands)
where Time unravels
in.the /quiet/ pulse
ofstars:are::born dying
(again)
and(i)am only a
fragment of whispered(trees)
drowning beneath the
thousandmouthed sky
(and clouds so soft
they
shatter)
oh,you.
are( the fierce )blue
hum of every
unsayable silence,
every:moment:
that
breathes—
into(i)tiny—a spiraling/word\
(lost
but.alive)
what is Light?
(ifnot.your)
gaze breaking
infinite( into trembling)—
earth cracks open,
an ocean of(you
rushing)
(a kiss
blooms where no lips have touched).
:: 12.21.2024 ::
 | EPRobles on OWL MILK AND INDIGO SMOKE |
 | Adam Fisher on OWL MILK AND INDIGO SMOKE |
| EPRobles on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… |
 | R. Marshall on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… |
 | Stefan on ECSTASIES OF THE REPULSIV… |
E.P. Robles | Poetry 
You must be logged in to post a comment.