Echoes

Echoes

 

 

 

sparse inflection

flatlined words

read at an old

broken down coffeehouse

 

two individuals trying to brew

their hangovers to disintegrate

half-listen, half-sleep

danish, with two bites missing

 

the poet drones on

like a plane heading for the waves

a burial ground for disenchanted

writers with water-logged regret

 

Haight Ashbury had its day

this poet was alive and well

and screaming for justice and peace

in a world sidestepping reality

 

now there are sounds

like a strange hum

drowsy strangers

look up

 

there is no one at the mic

a waitress clears a table

 

this never happened

although the napkins

have lip prints

from the sixties

 

and the color

is not completely dry.

 

 

erin-cilberto

4/20/22

Reviews

[Fay Slimm]

Dreams may fade but echoes live on and Jacob your vivid description of early yeared screaming for peace drives the fact home that the world still side-steps and poets drone on for they cannot believe minds do not straighten and clear given time. Such a telling write and thank you for sharing it.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your understanding words, Fay,
j.

[...Relic...]

I think there are many who would love to go back, who feel a pang of loneliness for the ideals and passion, even the comraderie of what once was. And it was new, it was different, it was where the roots took place and spread out.

Today though, those coffee houses smell different. Slam poetry and meaner attitudes have filled the chairs at self-centered tables. And although creativity is still on the kitchens burner, there's probably still something missing. But I could be all wrong.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your very insightful review, Tim.
j.

[cheyenne s garcia]

Left me with a cliffhanger at the end. Lovely to read. Most delicate use of paraphrasing. I would love to read more.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words,
j.

[cheyenne s garcia]

You are welcome.

[Chris Shaw]

Maybe the open mic of today has lost the vitality and atmosphere of the past. The napkins though still have the lip print from the sixties. The echoes of what used to be reverberating.

the poet drones on....

This sounds like a bad dream J. Maybe this is what every poet fears.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I would say yes to that.
thank you, Chris,
j.

[knighngale]

hellos, Cilberto, nice inflection. I love the mood. I love the sound of a run down cafe; I guess they do some improv there. Great read, love each moment of it, _Maynard

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Maynard,
j.

[knighngale]

most welcome, Cilberto 😁😋😎😍🥱

[John the Baptist]

Scenes change but memories linger. This one has the sound of a dream, a flashback to a time 50 years past. Some things don't change, however. The world is still sidestepping reality.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, John,
j.