Planning My Road Trip

This will be epic!

I am planning my road trip.

(Who am I kidding? I am daydreaming.)

Really, I will have to be frugal

and pack light,

but for an extended adventure—

bring only essentials. Roll my bedroll

tightly, strap it

tightly to the luggage rack.

The saddlebags are filled

with necessities: road flares, inner tube,

a selective assortment of tools.

A duffel of clothes fit for all seasons

sits on the passenger pillion (rides bitch,

            if you will),

which would otherwise be empty.

My route has been mapped out,

with various alternatives tossed about,

like a maverick or nomad.

I will visit forty-eight states

(and at least one foreign country) alone.

Of course, many things,

like consumables, I can gather

            on the road;

beg, borrow, steal the rest. I will need

a pup tent and a Coleman stove

for the road-side campsites

where I will sleep to save money

on occasion, weather permitting.

It will be bare-bones and dirt-cheap.

(Yes, even in my dreams.)  Now,

if only I still had my hog. . . . It won’t

be the same in a van.

-

"Planning My Road Trip," along with "Inspiration," is published in Issue 93 (January 2020) of Burningword Literary Journal.

Eric

There Is Fire

When the world around us

is exploding

with disbelief

and willful ignorance

while the truth

is on TV

for all the world to see,

smoke rises.

Smoke rises

from the classrooms—

our social media

experts.

Smoke rises

from sidewalk cafés

and picket lines,

engulfs a righteous nation.

Smoke lingers

until there is blood

in the streets.

            And, as we know,

where there is smoke. . . .

- 

"There Is Fire," along with "I feel naked—," is included in the Winter issue (Vol. XIII, No. 1) of Third Wednesday Magazine, a quarterly journal of literary and visual arts. 

Eric

Sonnets After Midnight

With all of these poets hooked on form,

one’s apt to believe it’s like opiates or porn.

And though this path is now rarely worn,

I will torture syntax to start a swarm.

At first, I stumble over every line,

trying to juggle couplets that rhyme.

I start, but I stumble a dozen times

to twist a phrase, to make it mine.

Of meager skills I have no trust.

This formal structure has me beat.

But wait!  I have hobbled to my feet.

I have finally found some metered lust

and learned that writing sonnets after midnight

entails staying awake and artificial light.

-

"Sonnets After Midnight" won 1st place in the Ohio Poetry Day 2019 poetry contest #5, The Sonnet Award, and was published in the contest compilation chapbook, Ohio Poetry Day: Best of 2019.

Eric

You Are Welcome

Existing begins with being
born of intent or circumstance.

Established, produced, conjured
from the infinite vacuum
of nonexistence. To be
or not

has been decided
for you, without your knowledge
or consent.

Now, hop to it!

The responsibility

is yours. And

what you do with it

is your responsibility.

-

"You Are Welcome" is published in the 2018 Winter Issue (#9) of Light, an independent, reader-supported, quarterly journal of fine art photography and poetry. The theme of Issue 9 is "Begin." 

In the winter of 2018, my poem, "Fifteen Seconds," was included in Light's fifth issue, which bore the theme "Reflection."

Eric

Fifteen Seconds

is all I can spare

to smell the wilted rose petals

now drying in a bowl

in the foyer

on a shelf

as I pass on my way to the door.

The petals

were swept from the bed

in the morning

after adhering

to the sweat on our bodies

last night

as we said our last goodbye.

I don’t have time

for coffee,

and I didn't want

to wake you.

-

"Fifteen Seconds" is published in the 2017 Winter Issue (#5) of Light, an independent, reader-supported, quarterly journal of fine art photography and poetry in its second year of publication. The theme of Issue 5 is "Reflection."

Eric

The Bay is Crisp

An open window lets the air in,

lets in the brackish air. It is early,

just before dawn.

Boats, still moored,

bob languidly.

And those departing

are loath to make wake,

nary a ripple.

           

Fishermen (and fisher

women too) seek out a living,

eke out a life,

dredging from the deep

to furnish a feast for someone.

The nip in the air

wakes one faster than coffee.

Profit by the pound,

but only on good days, only

if the weather behaves—

a day just like today,

we both hope and pray.

-

"The Bay is Crisp" won 3^rd place in the Ohio Poetry Day 2017 poetry contest #3, Evelyn Barker Award: “In Praise of Traditional Values,” and was published in the contest compilation chapbook, Ohio Poetry Day: Best of 2017. 

Eric

Another Bartender Love Affair

Maybe, it is simply because

            they provide all necessities of life,

smiling and calling us “honey”—

            whatever’s on tap.

Mere presence is life affirming,

            a semblance of social construct we all need

as we drink ourselves to death—

            a look in the mirror.

Tomorrow, we re-belly up,

            another round of affirmation,

a double whiskey back—

            one more . . . and the check.

-

My poem, "Another Bartender Love Affair," is included in Issue 21 (January 2017) of Shot Glass Journal, an on-line journal devoted to short poetry published by Muse-Pie Press. You should treat yourself to the jewels contained in the entire issue, but here is a direct link to my poem.

Eric

Garden Economics

            The beautiful landscape as we know it
            belongs to those who are like it.
                        —Muso Soseki
 
Capitalism is such a beautiful weed.
 
It grows most striking
without constraint
 
and prospers for a while
                                    in fertile soil,
 
until it chokes
on its own coiled roots
and
                        unrestrained vines—
 
a laissez-faire foliage.
 
A mindful gardener prunes such flora,
            held so fair,
 
with incisiveness, with tender love
            and care,
 
lest he be compelled to axe and spade.
 
He does not go
all Edward Scissorhands on it,
 
            snip, snip,       
                        manicure,

manipulate,                 cultivate.
 
Capitalism is a beautiful weed,
 
a living, growing thing,
                        not a delicate thing.
 
Trim, tend, and cultivate,
or axe, spade.

-

"Garden Economics" was included in Issue 13 (Spring 2016) of local Dayton journal Mock Turtle Zine. 

Past issues of Mock Turtle can be viewed online.

Eric

Lost Pepper, Roots of Evil

Lost Pepper

While clawing at the ground,

I think I uncovered history. As others

were digging up bones,

I discovered a miniature bottle

of Tabasco sauce

and a rusty blade.

My brother, the expert, says it’s a piece of crap,

but it cuts. The tiny bottle

makes his mouth water.

He covets the burn—lost pepper, vinegar,

salt in a wound—

sustained in sediment.

I wonder how long it has aged,

savor the burn.

-

Roots of Evil

Picking out parsnips and turnips,

I decide to surprise you 

with extra beets.

I know how their sweet blood pleases you.

When it drips from your lips,

I realize how ironic it is for a vampire

to be vegan.

You wipe some juice away, 

and I pretend not to notice.

You suffered through two root

canals so your hallowed fangs 

would not show.

This is how you cancel your past.

But if I 

discover a coffin in the cellar,

or find you sleeping while

hanging upside down from the ceiling,

I will regret not buying 

garlic cloves or 

rainbow carrots instead.

-

"Lost Pepper" and "Roots of Evil" were published in Issue 12 (Fall 2015) of local Dayton journal Mock Turtle Zine. 

Past issues of Mock Turtle can be viewed online.

Eric

Overdue Poems

Poor Folk

The book on her nightstand

is by Dostoevsky, one of

his early novels. She

studied him in college,

wrote a master’s thesis on

The Brothers Karamazov, his final.

The main character works as a copyist,

frequently belittled and picked on

by colleagues. His clothes

are worn and dirty. His

cousin is from the country.

He is in love.

But a rich man

proposes. She slowly

becomes accustomed to money

and leaves the copyist

alone. His plea goes

unanswered.

The book goes

unfinished. She has lost momentum.

Life happens too quickly. Two

full-time jobs leave no time

for Russian novels, only

Russian vodka.

-

It Speaks

A book begins to speak,

tells me how lonely it is

in dusty stacks,

            especially

for a book of poems.

Only poets

read poetry,

            unless

for academic assessment

or love inspires a search for clichés.

I take the poor thing home,

prove the truth it speaks,

            a poet

granting poetry

its only wish.

-

"Poor Folks" and "It Speaks" were published in Overdue Poems, a chapbook of work by members of the Wright Library Poets in Celebration of Libraries, Reading and Books, compiled and edited by Grace Curtis and Elizabeth Schmidt and made possible by a grant from the Wright Memorial Public Library Foundation.

Eric