Eric Cockrell Poems

is a sparrow's nest
made of straw,
or made of sky?
...

'thou shalt not kill'...
how many ways can
they screw that up?
...

why is it
that the person
we are with the most,
and are closest to...
...

the part of us
that wants to pray
in the heated hour
of our darkest night...
...

the true concept
of hell is... distance!
we burn the bridge
with fingers that grasp!
...

we spend all of our lives,
busy with dying...
making final preperations,
for a trip across the room!
...

if you love me,
the way you love your neighbor...

i will disarm you!
...

this whole religion thing
is starting to annoy me...
you can either look
in the mirror and see me,
...

i've walked this road for so long,
that i know what silence tastes like.
i hear only the simple sounds,
or the simplicity of sound...
...

i write...
what is given me to write,
with all consuming fire,
burning every branch of self.
...