Eric Erb, not John Bruce. Squeezing words out of this pen. Lives in New Jersey, USA. Works as a technical analyst in Princeton. Catch more words at http://erbiage.wordpress.com
Laughing, this isn’t paper! These wretched little scars I leave Across these blank sheets of pulped up trees with puny glory dreams of a sand grain As if that mote could grow up to be a boulder he leaned over, whispered volumes with his gaze You are detachment
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
Round route (27/10/2017)
One Aspen (22/01/2017)
First Flight (12/12/2016)
Blog link: https://www.writeoutloud.net/blogs/ericerb
Do you want to be featured here? Submit your profile.