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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
Robert C Ellis Mar 2023
The bespoked branch whips its tendril wrists into moonlit so winded I gave up breathing
Stripping midnight of the exhausted blue atmosphere so poetically I’ve no reason to wake up,
Having heard now everything worth believing
With nothing to let up.
Robert C Ellis Feb 2023
i
The bespoke branch whips its tendril wrists into moonlit so winded I gave up breathing
It strips midnight of the exhausted blue atmosphere so poetically I’ve no reason to wake up,
Having heard everything worth believing
With nothing to let up.
Robert C Ellis Jan 2023
I swear to Christ and Holy God
I want one more insight like a dog screaming barks in the dark at unknown intruders.
I want to jump so I have a heart because I’m afraid it will break under the moment.  
And then I know I was built
because I didn’t make it myself and so it has a purpose but I don’t know it.
Until it jumps again.
Robert C Ellis Jan 2023
I Hate it when Night presses its depthless face against the GLASS
and I have to Fight the urge to walk PAST the bulbs on the stars coming loose,
like all seas do,
and HIS hands, like they’re depicted in cathedrals:
carved from clubs,
dirt in the creases,
waving in the darkness

and wonder if I will LAST
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