
I went down to the. I cried when– (the one thing)– because I realized no one had told him– (broke)– he asked me Can a work of art be. You can run. I told him: though I saw sunrise eyes– (I fell down on my)– I told him the dark gonna catch him cold. My tears clear his eyes of deals made with. I believe I’m am sinking.
More from this issue
Published by Eric Ingram
Eric Ingram (b. 1991) is an artist from San Diego. He studied philosophy at Columbia University, and lives in Los Angeles where he works as a video editor. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in journals Hawai’i Review, Allegory Ridge, Bottlecap Press, Fields Magazine, and others. He is represented by InkWell management, with debut novel “The Best Man” forthcoming.
Website: www.ericingram.org
View all posts by Eric Ingram