Eric Torgersen Poems
|4.||I'Ve Come To Be One Who Cries||3/27/2012|
|6.||An Apple From Walt Whitman||3/27/2012|
|8.||No Dancer / Still Walking||3/27/2012|
|10.||When They Draw Us||3/27/2012|
|12.||After Gaetan Picon||3/27/2012|
|14.||The Man Who Broke Up The Dinner Party Answers||3/27/2012|
|15.||Case Studies: I||3/27/2012|
|16.||Open Stage Poetry Reading||3/27/2012|
|18.||The Lone Ranger Rides Off||3/27/2012|
|23.||The Story Of White Man Leading Viet Cong Patrol||1/13/2003|
In the kitchen window
the coleus I cut down to stumps
to make cuttings for friends
is spreading new leaves to the sun.
the light catches
rise from the new leaves;
red seeps into green
along the veins.
at the sun
and looks and looks and looks.
I would visit my friends
but feel troubled and shy.
A crackpot gringo in Guatemala told me:
when the pilots of the suicide planes began
their dives down at the ships they were already dead.
Coming from him, a smug didactic metaphor.
Remember Joplin's 'Mercedes Benz,' on Pearl?
The reason we found the final chorus so moving
is that when she shouts everybody! but no one joins in
and she goes on singing alone she's already dead.
When JFK took Marilyn Monroe in his arms,