Five Poems
Spencer Eckart
It is a gift / to be alone in this world / together with everyone / and everything / we’ve ever loved
It is a gift / to be alone in this world / together with everyone / and everything / we’ve ever loved
There is a War between Words and Things. Armies are on opposite sides of a River called Speech
I don’t care about writing anymore this is stupid / I don’t care anymore about this shit / They were like umm but doesn’t this mean so much to you / I said no
It’s evening already / and the vibes are so off / it isn’t even funny.
Days of Vagrant Youth
We sit around drinking poison
that’ll give half of us
cancer
and the other, madness,
mistaking ill euphoria for
wisdom of the moment.
We’re
Your soul, yes, bright as a star in a blackened sea-sky. Something to admire from a cliff,
impossible to hold.
look at me and how I just / sit around and fucking pout
Spirals in the / Sky spray out eight billion cassette tapes / So anyone on any other planet might wit / Just how thin earthly love has withered.
I have developed an awareness / Of my need to perform this fervor / And what I thought was fear / Turned out to be excitement.
She was meditating with me / And eventually she was gone licked up by the surf / On a personal level, expressed in a fiction / That was the breadth of my loving and no thing more
These untamed wild horses galloping inside these Trojan hearts / Like that beach that one summer / This one summer, it is all we get
/ Slipping through our fingers like the sands of Ios where Homer lay in dust
I loved you better as a vague notion. Better / as an uncountable thing. Better /
as an assembly of dog treats.
I grass-skied down the camp hill in my non-specialist shoes, drifted into the icy endzone with the kids,
I'll say the metformin must be working. You'll tell me to message my doctor, ask about upping the dose.
ration the rest of the smoke, / spend hours tracing maps / to find the pub marquee
But there, hand gripping faucet / It spoke in a language held only in the body
Love is like a museum. You have to look around, experience things, and then leave.
"I loved reading Exit, Carefully. It’s unusual, and in my opinion exciting, to publish a play without previously receiving a major production."
-Walker Caplan, Lithub
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