jacob erin-cilberto > Writing | WritersCafe.org

the development of truth archaic innocence is an old blemished photo the faces, manipulated focus we see what we see and..

polluted waters the spills are decomposing osmosis didn't work, when are we going to stop calling the lecture "learning..." ..

bagging the limit hearts fire stray bullets the "didn't mean to shoot you" ones we fall we fall for the hunters when ..

it's that day again ascertain a heart beat ever so slight, a murmur whisper nothing said, no need, the stethoscope finds that inkling of ..

his bed spindly little flower she's a rose in dreams the gardener calls, she raises her head, the petals unfold she is love, she blushe..

from the womb of acknowledgement placid fornication, words form together like spliced bodies making love, making line..

where have all the epic poems gone? the short poem sat in the home, pondering of when it was longer more metaphoric, deeper..

still that girl there is a tall tree in myopic sentiment, i stand by it, watching you from a distance your hand entwine..

the color of academia blue faces, ocean children riding crests of avalanche waves turmoil brains floating away from the scholastic current ..

Captain's Log bar none, your eyes float me into straits of warm channels networks of intricate phantasm understandings ..