jacob erin-cilberto > Writing | WritersCafe.org

tears freeze a father's imprint impaled upon my cold heart but respect's still warm erin-cilberto 8/12/19

when the corn grows wicked no scripture can be translated for the adjunct sinner that will soften the penalties for indisc..

Warden's Blues why am i Christ in hiding enough of the garden, enough of the penance for all the sins of the world enough ..

Moon Dance i was just a figment of your imagination never really existed did you? did we? was the us just mirrors with ..

grazing and gazing toward a once fertile past an old gutted out barn the cows never came home again bales of rancid hay years ..

Radio Head digressing, to an abomination of loveless abyss you looked into me and what stared back at you fractured your ..

two goodbyes too many when your bones went limp was there still poetry stirring in your mind did you try to write poems wit..

Whatever is this art? or poetry, or both or neither and did you ever exist when our lips purportedly met conv..

munitions destruction of ourselves, becomes a wanton cry for constructive criticism of our words even to be noticed lik..

Face time is threatening to outrun itself and take me along with it. such burden for those hands on the face of the clock to hold..