I've bent my mouth up to my ear
Believing in the stuff belief is made of
Milk replaced by silky biers
Losing my fingers to the Barren Baron Dove

Hurts to admit I'm stealing away
A curly knife held to my ear
Simple, crimpled, waning days
Throw unto the heart of the pier

Lark and tumble
Bark and fumble

Still those tired eyes of dust
I have found the beveled rhythm
Among the pristine clouds of rust,
Entropy's daily rhythm

Wake away the roaring morning
Rising heat in waxing dawn
Spend the many days adorning
The beating pulse of the fawn

Stupefied, nullified
Numb and in crumbs
A stump to the vein
A lump of sweetened pain

You watch the plastic frame meld into itself,
The second hand turning inward
Smoothly running down the walls like fingertips trying to find their hands,
Tapping the pencil against the desk,
Tapping soles onto tiled floors,
Toes rhyming in spite of themselves, waiting.

PET this pretty kitty,monster
oh, WET is progress-pink disease
of love,my victims(like when i break
your heart i won’t deny it all
so we suffer the Bigness of your
LITTLEST pelvic region
so unwish a world of pity flesh
and my need for guidance is so much
like-more the world born–pity my
poor flesh(i “hyper-magical beauty”)kitty
so WET and in need of a good petting hand
and two eyes upon
my ever unwished words(never save me
from these evil deeds of desire)ugh,
ultra-omnipotence makes me hot and with
a hell to pay the angels say,”what the
devil needs to know I always seem
to suffer myself;”
so pet this pretty kitty,monster
yeah, a wet progress-pink disease o’love

:: 09-01-2015 ::
Copyright © Ernest Robles

This spread of paper          so cold that
      my tongue-tip    aches-freezing
the    dense flowing words    as ice
    down the ***** by gravity

Katabatic attack
    relentlessly      for weeks
My preception --whiteout;
rain, snow, hail, sleet.
    Precipitation always
measured by soul & pain

:: 12312015 ::

WHETHER morticians wear
the makeup of cadavers
or madness is the friendliest
voice makes no difference
you are sick
to believe loud colors
have no mouth
and the trunks of people
grow deeply rooted roads
that have many toll booths
the rich pay for free things
and the poor steal dreams
those dead envy the living
and those alive
feel so dead.


:: 10-27-2018 ::

i, knowing,
declare you in
manifest—

you're in my
words and worms
and winds.  

i embody you in
relation:

i, as aesthetic expression,
you, as visceral reception.

Tears are
Eli
  xir
lush is
  l
  y
like eye
deli
ciously!
Myeye enTOMED IF
MY
OP
TIC HEART BEATS
of c o m ing love
and waiting is
spent in I- SO
lation
but rewarded
by golden souls!
So pain is a seed
and spirit the tree
i bury my roots
D
E
E
P
L
Y
!

:: 12-31-2014 ::

I mouthed the morning,
and dew and petal!

I ate the soil but not
the bee but even thorn!

I saw the gnome  
inside a root of tree!

I kissed his conical hat
and kissed his feet!

This I did all before
but never within my sleep!

:: 08-26-2014 ::

"LiSTEN" said the tongue
"I smell tragedy" replied the eyes
"Who knows?" questioned the nose
"I think" screamed the heart
And Spirit hugged the Soul wishing
this unbelievable dream would
just go away.

:: 09-03-2018 ::