Eric Jennings
Memoir of recovery from a male survivor, told through poetry, creative non-fiction, and experimental writing.
Art
I make photos and other visual art. Mostly digital. Some analog. Some both.…
Pumiquat
he never spoke to me again. without explanation, i knew how to say the word. pumiquat. it's not what you think. nor what you expect. it's a secret. i've only told you the part that you're allowed to know…
Kitchen Memories
i'm not always sure if a story in the archive is a memory or a dream…
Who Am I This Time?
One of the key symptoms of paranoia is the belief that one is the literal center of the universe. What I mean by that is that the entire world, as far as human perception allows, exists solely for the purpose of tormenting, and ultimately, murdering me.…
Buried Alive
Could those human bones we dug up that time have been cursed? Could I have been cursed? Could we have been cursed? We put them back, but maybe that didn’t help. I did everything I could to avoid digging up the bones of my assault.…
Ariadne, Amazed
i was touched by you
i was torched by you
you put your boot on my face…
Random Encounter
As we wept—my father and I—I wondered if it was for his friend, after all. I wondered if it was for him. I wonder if it was for me.…
Anguinum
The original trauma was birth and everthying that follows is but preparation for the trauma of death. Of letting go of all that we have learned. It is only through remembering that we can die because remembering is to forget.…
What We Love Is What We Hope Is Who We Are
The thing I remember most about being young is the longing I felt, though I knew not for what.…
My Vertical Interrogation
I believe I am the figment of a little boy’s imagination. He’s trying to imagine himself in the future. In a different future than the one he expects. I am ten years old imaging I am sixty-three.…
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