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|
|17.||The Lone Ranger Rides Off||3/27/2012|
|21.||Open Stage Poetry Reading||3/27/2012|
|23.||The Story Of White Man Leading Viet Cong Patrol||1/13/2003|
Comments about Eric Torgersen
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.
Hang him from a tree he hasn't hung from yet.
Fling him off a bridge no one's been flung from yet.
Send succor, in whatever dark disguise:
a hornet's nest he's not gone running, stung, from yet.
Early fall, and not one branch the wind
has not stripped every leaf that clung from yet.