and we write of them, stillA Poem by jacob erin-cilberto
and we write of them,
still
there have been Plaths
and Sextons Berrymans and
Jarrells.... none filled with barrels of metrical laughter
these tortured artists ran out of reasons to
breathe words found highways, garages,
bullets and ovens and as poetic spirits of a coven joined hands in death and left their pens on
empty desks silent typewriters silent pens and odds and ends
unfinished and
unwritten catacombs of writing
gathering dust in decomposing minds
if only we could Lazarus
them back to life what would they write
now? lines of regrets for the lines unfulfilled unpunctuated ?
or about lives unfulfilled
and dead end pens that were destined for posthumous notoriety and postscripts
becoming footnotes in some research paper paying due respect as if they all would
turn over in their graves
and give the fledgling
doctoral student a thumbs up for the acknowledgment
that was really
just
an afterthought...
erin-cilberto 10/9/17 © 2017 jacob erin-cilbertoReviews
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13 Reviews Added on October 9, 2017 Last Updated on October 9, 2017 Authorjacob erin-cilbertoCarbondale, ILAboutOriginally from Bronx, NY, I live in Carbondale, Illinois...teach English at a community college and have been writing and publishing poetry since 1970. I am here to read for inspiration from other po.. more..Writing
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