Staff Content
This page features creative pieces of prose and poetry written by The Eckleburg Project’s very own staff writers. Keep an eye out for new content every other Friday.
In a world with you.
Pink-tipped curls of gold sit on your shoulders,
curled up in a scarf and wearing a beanie.
You're sitting across from me,
him to your left and her to your right.
When I was a kid, my dad taught me that getting angry could distract you from pain.
A little curse word when you fell, even if your body wasn’t injured, just in case.
A swing at someone when they annoyed me wouldn’t be too bad,
if they were hurt, they could swing back.
The sky is falling,
It’s happening now on a rock beach
A thick mist has kidnapped the sun
Turquoise clouds are circling around me
All I could see were two freckles on your neck
Arranged an inch apart like empty eyes
Or mouths
Black and gaping.
Lightning in a bottle, they used to call him
The little boy wonder who could brave the deadliest storm
most times: two horizontal buttresses,
arched and angled,
hanging above your heavy gaze and
sharpening it to a fine point to be hurled,
I am out of rhymes, I am out
Of poetic language, do not ask me to spin
Another gossamer-silver line from my tongue.
Sometimes I feel like the co-pilot in a falling plane
Meant to mindlessly soar across a barren plane
That was it, the end of the family’s true legacy
As they couldn’t prevent their fall deep into all of life’s entropy
I know when she heard the pitter-patter
of tiny feet she didn't expect to
Hurt quite so much
Robin had always been a good liar, and this was no exception. Or maybe it was because nothing she said had been a lie, strictly speaking
on the last of the seventeen and a half days
we had of spring (you went to france, I think,
or switzerland), on that last afternoon,
you missed your flight and took it as a sign.