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Lungs are His cathedrals, on this night A
Boeing 737-7 cuts a spotlight
between twilight and dream
Gods breath carving alveoli with a 10:35 flight across rib bone
and destiny
It is the curse of existence, trajectory
Neither sleep nor sunrise will stabilize me.
Robert C Ellis Dec 2023
A sunny field 1977, thistle-trees-stirring-the-blue-orange-sky memory ripened, beaded up
fruit wet between my teeth.  I dream
Childhood with an eccentricity,
An ache and I wonder
How my mind makes up such things
Why from it I woke and can’t go back to
Robert C Ellis Dec 2023
Time rides its great steel grate with
the heavy weight the universes machinery
Hotter than a call house on nickel night
Cracking the teeth and bleeding gums

on the hate.

I muddy bare arms until I can’t tell them from the dirt
and wait
Life, the gray sound of rolling tires;
procurement, parchment, pamphlets

unlocking the gates.
Robert C Ellis Oct 2023
It’s the caloric weight of a body…
Mineral water minus pillar salt divided by gravitating
memories turning 3.7 % of sea to milk stone
It hoists perception, of this morning,
the overlapping lessons I’ve learned from
waking 1,893,993 suns and breaks port again under breath,
My time displacement,  just 2 feet below the surface of universe.
Movement from the .0000000009 parse of space the  
the planet stood upon
to curdle the place where I was born

Deoxyribonucleic Jerusalem thorn
Robert C Ellis Jun 2023
The course and cause of all equation
is Tomorrow.  And its teeth..
Look at them flooding chalkboards,
like endless petals cut and pasted until the
veins make rhythms the eyes can clerk.
And my pocketful of cherry stems and change,
castoff cogs of Timeworks
Robert C Ellis Apr 2023
My lungs bled from broken eggs;
how does water broker where they go…
What they are a cathedral for…

If only Time didn’t have a say,
If there was no roaring universe washing us away.  
We could spend ourselves in warm blankets, perched in snow
Watching The Clockwork through a telescope

No memories undertoe
Robert C Ellis Apr 2023
The foliage twists out of the ground like sick infection,
and we marvel at the flowers.
Imagine a carousel so old we rode it in black and white
and dreamed the colors
Childhood breaks atop the crease between sleep and history
I am the weights of every day, like stars pulling one another.
Never cowering from the hours
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