| Inamorato by Eric Weinstein i luv u she said, the screen hanging starkly in the sudden colossal darkness of the room he did not reply. the next morning, he lied: my computer crashed into a hillside, went up in flames. (every last alphanumeric passenger was lost never arriving at the quiet whiteness of their terminal; i didn't get word 'til this afternoon) did you say something? and someone inside her blinks and falls down a flightofstairs then - no, she said i didn't say any(thing no not a word, it was no) thing no nothing at all |
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Eric Weinstein is currently finishing an AB in English and Philosophy at Duke University in Durham, North Carolina. He was born in Macon, Georgia and grew up in Nashua, New Hampshire. He currently lives, works, and writes in New York City. His poetry has previously appeared in The Archive and Wheelhouse Magazine and has won several awards, including the Anne Flexner Prize in Poetry. |