Published in


untitled (when the machines came)

Photo by Bryce olsen on Unsplash

we lay on the dreaming prairie
after the birth of mountains
killed forests in shadows of rain
absorbing memories from sand
through the temperate grass

your final contented sigh
released me from my troubled skin
to merge with a crimson river
where forgotten megafauna
bellies full with pignon reflect




I write poetry, mostly in free verse with a fair amount of experimentation. Also haiku and some related forms. Once a year I deliver a 20–30 minute invocation for a secret society that functions as a sort of redneck Burning Man.

Recommended from Medium


The Gospel of Ruth

Hopeless Wounds — A Descort

Writer Bio

Momentary Madness

The full moon in the sky, above a group of trees, next to a water body on which there is a silver path lit by moonlight.

You make me feel

That Arm Around My Waist

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store
Eric Jennings

Eric Jennings

dilettante, poet, invocateur, acccidental yogi and dabbler in patamysticism which is the spiritual branch of pataphysics.

More from Medium

Title IX in my lifetime

This Human’s Guide to Surviving the Insanity Consuming the World Today

A young woman, red hair in braids, holds an illuminated globe in front of her chest.

Paving My Own Path

Pursuit of a Satisfied Life is a Completely Unrealistic Expectation