Eric Cockrell


Tiny Deaths - Poem by Eric Cockrell

you rip the clouds
from the sky itself....
head swaying side to side,
eyes lost in the museum

of feelings too long denied.
babbling odes to the gods,
breathing breath stolen
from a primeval forest....

naming the color
beneath shadows,
your fingers buried
in my hair!

tiny deaths....
postcards written in flesh!


Comments about Tiny Deaths by Eric Cockrell

There is no comment submitted by members..



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?



Poem Submitted: Friday, September 9, 2011



[Hata Bildir]