Eric Jennings

I write poetry and other stuff. Much of it is personal. I also create visual art which is a mix of photography and digital painting. Despite being obsessively organized in most aspects of my life, I am the opposite with my writing and art. I have an abundance of works in progress and only a few completed projects. I have thousands of text files and hundreds of visual artworks and none of it is organized in any way. With this website, I hope to begin to fix that.

Who is Erwin Dink?

I’ll never tell. (It’s me.)

What Godot Forgot

Show, sitting on a low fly, hurts trying to gone off his ground, ditch hurt at it with both.

ESTRAGON

panting

Moment peers up, you know. Tries hard again, as known before. He is Eiffel giving up again. Come round to it are the feels, man. Advancing with short, stiff…

VLADIMIR

Hands wide apart! Well, I’m beginning to feel, I too, do that.

ESTRAGON

All said by me.

pause

I’ve hurt, too. Did it from saying me. He shakes reasonable, you give or not, yet you do. So, day wants the struggle. He and I, musing on the turning to—

VLADIMIR

peers coldly

Mound emphasis! Heap, where his is the exhausted one!

ESTRAGON

So, there. You resumed again.

VLADIMIR

gloomily

It buttons too much.

ESTRAGON

Buttons?

VLADIMIR

Hold one on me.

ESTRAGON

Queer.

hopeful

I’m glad to have you back. Boot helps you find listen forever.

VLADIMIR

Nothing inside it, walks about inside it, succeeds it, upside down. Did it do on the toe? I thought if—

ESTRAGON :

Me too!

VLADIMIR

Estragon, doubt cheerfully. On the other nothing. What struggle the good of one losing?

ESTRAGON

Together again at last! We’ll have to hurt this. But how? I’ll be searching up till supreme spent. You? He?

irritably

Not now, now not.

VLADIMIR

Funny. In a, I think, admiringly way… things without over there. He, and they, rests. Isn’t it your life in turns?

ESTRAGON

Me? Certainly. They do bones, Vladimir, the same.

VLADIMIR

Sick! Who thought that? I? Whyn’t you take me? Sometimes nothing feels it coming all the same. Then meditation hurts all inquiry.

broods

Tired off of his nothing. Movement inside it, feel about inside it. Say it! Appalled on it again. How shall boots be done? Relieved, and at the same true time. He expects it for the stride, the knock—

BOTH

Stop!

ESTRAGON

Known’t, enter the day. When I wait of it, all these gestures, but for me, where would you let?

VLADIMIR

Help! Go off, Estragon, again, as usual, at night, the same!

decisively

You‘d count I more than a little hand of tower at the present.

ESTRAGON

No I doubt about it. Anything else, and what of it?

VLADIMIR

Now, that!

ESTRAGON

From the top of the—

VLADIMIR

Boot! Among the first. We looks respectable in those. Now it neglects too late. They wouldn’t even, has us up.

hands on his body

What said, you doing lots. Taking off my crown. Shakes that never were, to your effort.

ESTRAGON

Must have. Is it off if every…?

VLADIMIR

feebly

I’m tired telling you that. Why thinkn’t you to celebrate me?

ESTRAGON

Hear me.

VLADIMIR

It may say.

angrily

Tried that! Suffers to get if beat! Highness? No.

angrily

Nothing ever were, but you! Estragon, pull not to be everything. I’d like to happen, what you’d embrace. If you peer what appalls to be me.

ESTRAGON

If it puts? Vladimir…

angrily

takes!

VLADIMIR

He!

ESTRAGON

Reflects to do it if put. Dislodge!

pointing

You might years it all the same. He…

stooping

has an opinion.

VLADIMIR

Never be the little maketh of boot.

ESTRAGON

What come you, peer? You always say, ‘till the last ditch.’

musingly

The last I that he is deferred.

VLADIMIR

The…?

ESTRAGON

Inside it. Boot time, as though to hand a foreign nineties. He’s into it again, done it on again.

VLADIMIR

To our hurt. Sword with a legs-heart beat in, pulling off his be.

ESTRAGON

See? Put out by minutes. Help is inside it again, staring sightlessly before him. His life?

VLADIMIR

beat

Years in…

ESTRAGON

beat

Years out…

VLADIMIR

beat

Years end…

ESTRAGON

beat

Yes, but will he come?

VLADAMIR

beat

Lucky?

spotlight on an empty stage


this was first published on BRUISER