i am against the Night
& i am against the owl —
in with then i see a beak
holding a mouse! it is not family
nor within my head that i am against
but the largest of all WALLS that
i hold up against this t e r r o r
; it is a crime against mistakes
against the silence of any longer
night; orbicular science.
:: 06.30.2020 ::
how now is as five finger-Libran
male(darling).a particular Soul
lost weight confessing all his
Sins__now alive than anyWorld
would or could understand.
a miracle angelHair cut must
come before the noose of darkness
and now this shining priceless
advice)no single Leafless heart
can be contained(i kissed the like-
ness of your forevering snowTouched
Heart Pit trap.
:: 06.30.2020 ::
my nerves are bullet holes, and swollen veins that have eyes
start to lick my tears and blood. Sirens, jet planes, bad blood,
unhappy fragmented culprits shall angrily testify we are the
extinguished divine spark of sorrowful symphonies — and downtown
ghosts are flinging their feet /and wishing within symphonies\
there i go../hiding my ancient face beneath six churches
my fEAR then died as a bouncing stone of untold heights it flew
then this woman said: what did you do to Life? my heart is
bleeding dreams — she said. To me: from me: i asked, ”
you who do not despise me is a friendly soul.
:: 06.30.2020 ::
i am human
i am machine
i am biologically
INSANE___
i can dance now
watch my dance:
between
00000000’s & t h o s e
11111111’s
—-i can flip over
superpositions & hear my
girlfriends moan & some-
times Scream___.
i am human
i am machine
i am biologically
sane #
:: 06.30.2020 ::
contumacies//
some nameless Persian Genius in a copper crown
and as the swallowed planks within their abysses;
to turn pale with shame
and, yet, with eyes very open, to pretend to see
angelic waves of Ocean’s life oh ! how sweet it is to
snatch abruptly from one’s insane mind a perfect day so
on weekenders it’s such fun that if we die our appearance
of everyone’s miseries —meanwhile, we drink the blood
of enemies by licking their wounds.
::/6\30\2020/::
THUNDER __ thunder!
i was born within
the round of a road
— THUNDER!
is it rain is it what
i knew: THUNDER
Amen___ my THUNDER
STRUCK — w3 make sound
and grueling dy ing words
—::: shaking like a leaf
so began 0–THUNDER STRUCK
OH0OO THUNDERSTRUCK___ oh
amen! th7under–)SPEAKS;
lighting Walks____!
:: 06.30.2020 ::
AND your strawberry eyes
with a sweet liquor!
a ,”NOBODY’s” Spirit sang
\ my own heart!
(i need) A Sweet sender brought
a wind of over-under Wonder!
(calling un)in(to despair)
fat lady sing!how
i love a mostly Large-almond-Love woman
each famous heart finding love must
end in each of everything____ (so many years
pass since I first wrote my last note)
around a wounded mind
of little fingers! A n d love is no wrong
with(a lot of you and me the faith of spirit)
c o n f i r m e d in heaven’s
solid congress! –> the message with a castes
blue bottle unto the gaping mouth of hungry
Ocean!
:: 03-12-2015 ::
:Rev 06.23.2020 ::
A SMALL NOTCH WITHIN A CORNER
A LIFE — while i don’t have plans
schemes or plans: that i have
love then nothing other than loathing
wrestling with slow twilight’s
– ooh i don’t have love to share
and just the turning of a big hand
inside the soul’s clockwork dream___
ooh you ooh you ooh you ooh you
these eyes of my poet-spirit revolves
printed saddest lines__ and with my
misery i loved her, and sometimes
she loved me too. Through moments
as these i held her within my
arms—i loved her first and she
last and to kiss her again and again
under endless sky.
:: 06.23.2020 ::
i do not know any woman other than
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson that i
could ever love. spectralphilia.
True how love never fades away
there within the dark pines
where everything is tangibly real
as the phosphorus celestial moon
affects oceans & hearts;
as one day is every day —
chasing each other.
feelings
emotions tears from south
& north eating west and east
the rarest of sights: a snowflake
in June kneeing my ship of ta-to-to-too
uncovering my Heart as a ship
with a black cross — a pirate navigating
by way of a silver gull. Still, and so,
i arise before the yellowed-yoke of the Sun!
crying! As i dry my wet soul.
:: 06.23.2020 ::
A WORLD too much – – so morning broken
sun and soon the place of much:
a waste of beautiful powers: that we see
spending sweet wages upon vaporish
fantastical wishes;
Romeo as Juliet — little light of Nature
that might have been like the fresh Sea
bares creation through destruction — sand castles
of me less forlorn;
Oh sweet new faults teaching me i am a new born
what moves us is not but through Great God
hearts out of tune; my mind is not evening
but morning’s eager Triton who blows his
wreathed horn. Fresh from Eternity Unto
This World.
:: 06.22.2020 ::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 
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