Palpable Spit of Poetry Spreads

Palpable Spit of Poetry Spreads

 

 

 

tactile poems in my subconscious

only what I touch

in the early morning

 

the other side of the bed, empty

of words

I slept alone again

 

wrote something last April

but then never got close enough

to read it

 

or touch it

or rewrite it

in the late night

 

when I do best

cause I cannot see

what I cannot touch.

 

 

erin-cilberto

1/4/2021

Reviews

[Rick Puetter]

Interesting. Tactile poems. "...I cannot see / what I cannot touch". Yeah, that makes it hard to rewrite. You really need to be in the poem to touch it and make useful rewrites. The poem is surprising in its turns, which makes you think, but a consistent thread runs through it.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your kind review, Rick,
j.

[Lydia Shutter]

Aha, poetry keeping you company in the bed at night. It hovers over the other side of the bed and leaves an indentation in your brain, but not a clear one. Another poem of aloneness....emptiness....words can not hug you or hold you unfortunately. Well written, Jacob. Lydi**

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your understanding words, Lydi...
you are so much appreciated by this blue collar poet.
j.

[Stella Armour]

"cause I cannot see what i cannot touch"
But you know it's there, and it will keep you awake until you go back to it ....

[jacob erin-cilberto]

absolutely true, Stella...absolutely true.
thank you,
j.

[Chris Shaw]

This poem feels lonely. The other side of the bed was cold. Beds should be warm places. Poems can fire your brain up, but they don't keep your bed warm. That's where my thoughts drifted Jacob and to all that writing you do in the witching hours.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

I like where you drifted...cold poems on the cold side of the bed.
thank you, Chris.
j.

[poetgurl]

I know this feeling quite well.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you, Ang-X...

j.