Black Lily Pad - poem and photo by: Erickson Solo celebratingAs confidence displaysYour name on my phone screen.Unbolded asA cloud. White textFloats on a black lily pad bubble.Loving lightlyWith a weightI plan the date. Thank you for reading "Black Lily Pad", subscribe for more poetry, travel, and creative writing content
American Diner Doors Open and photograph by: Erickson Helter-skelter stainless-steel smearsUpon a bopped-open butter bin.Maybe mapleBut frustrated fructose syrupSpits on signs,Gashes its gallops on paneled oak cabinets.—Across the street?—Bright Groceries.Oranges popping, looking at you like oversized eyeballs Under prices and lettering in bold.Prices in bold.—The street?—Long roadsLittered with signs designed for the American eye.Selling fried... Continue Reading →
Lab Grown Diamond by Erickson // Painting: les vessenots en auvers by Van Gogh Excuses sneakand wrap you in their diamondslike a snake.The stomach hisses.The feeling of reaching for your missing phone — arm as an Other,and a feather hand makes for an ill approach.You’re addicted.The scramble in your chestis a realization —“you are not... Continue Reading →
W.W. Cubism and photograph by: Erickson Smoke Whispered Through the tongue. Logical v i b r a t i o n s whittle The bones, sharpening them To the c ur ve d sticks of harps and bows. Suggestions bubble violent. Among the music, Language is condensed, like milk In rotten, dripping a rust can.--------Sh—ou-----t------s.---... Continue Reading →
Tag, you were it and photograph by: Erickson I guide you,like a childteaching another a new game.Finally, we are clay:Who would have knownOur original wonderHad been baking all along?Warm winter nightsAs full as summer days.Before I memorized the wrinklesaround your eyes:Braille poetry when you smile.And so I became the sunrise,to shine into our unknown for... Continue Reading →
"Untitled" by: Erickson Centuries lay before you.Nude. Scarred, save for thin protective layer-A spider’s web thrown to the wind. It's a whisp that allows us to breathe. Color draws into pupils- Rising sun, crumbling leaves, architecture climbing heights. Squint. Step back. Move forward—trace the design, its slow rotation.An intricate fashion has been made.But does all... Continue Reading →
"Masculine Soul" poem and photograph by: Erickson-Free my masculine soul from the cage of my father.Rattle my chains and inject graciousness and goodness into my veins.Pluck me, like a hen, to remove each feather that is my sin.Free my masculine soul from the cage of my father.-
Writing Erickson - Adventure + Writing Blog 