Eric Torgersen

Eric Torgersen Poems

1. Yet 3/27/2012
2. Oh 3/27/2012
3. First Shot 3/27/2012
4. I'Ve Come To Be One Who Cries 3/27/2012
5. Already Dead 3/27/2012
6. An Apple From Walt Whitman 3/27/2012
7. Holy 3/27/2012
8. No Dancer / Still Walking 3/27/2012
9. Locked 3/27/2012
10. When They Draw Us 3/27/2012
11. A Vacation 3/27/2012
12. After Gaetan Picon 3/27/2012
13. Chanson Américaine 3/27/2012
14. The Man Who Broke Up The Dinner Party Answers 3/27/2012
15. Case Studies: I 3/27/2012
16. The Piper 3/27/2012
17. The Lone Ranger Rides Off 3/27/2012
18. Scenario 3/27/2012
19. Back 3/27/2012
20. My Blindness 3/27/2012
21. Open Stage Poetry Reading 3/27/2012
22. Re: That 3/27/2012
23. The Story Of White Man Leading Viet Cong Patrol 1/13/2003
24. New Leaves 3/27/2012
Best Poem of Eric Torgersen

New Leaves

In the kitchen window
the coleus I cut down to stumps
to make cuttings for friends
is spreading new leaves to the sun.

Small hairs
the light catches
rise from the new leaves;
red seeps into green
along the veins.

The newest
is brightest.

The plant
cocks intelligent
at the sun
and looks and looks and looks.

I would visit my friends
but feel troubled and shy.

Read the full of New Leaves

First Shot

I said I was hunting deer. I knew the trails, the split tracks and pellets of shit; circles
where they bedded down together. I faced a buck once, for almost ten minutes I think;
I moved first and it left me. I ran home to think.

I had a bow, target arrows, a target on straw. My father said be careful, and I was, but
I sneaked my bow and arrow to the woods. I surprised a tiny rabbit near a hole. It
froze. I had an arrow on it. I moved and it ran for the hole. I never shot.


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