Eric A. Lohman

Eric A. Lohman lives in Powder Springs, GA. He is a psychiatric social worker, composer, avid cyclist and poet. He works in the emergency department of a large urban medical center, evaluating and assisting the homeless, the chemically dependent and the chronically mentally ill. Much of his poetry reflects his response to and efforts to cope with that reality. He also composes music for orchestra as well as smaller ensembles and solo performance, toward similar ends. He has been active in performing and written arts for 35 years and holds a bachelor’s degree in musical theory and composition from Jacksonville University, Jacksonville, FL.

five beheaded cinderellas after Christmas sale

Failed Haiku #37 January, 2019

country dark...
the stars appear
to twangle

Failed Haiku #36 December, 2018

even the stars have losers brown dwarf

Failed Haiku #36 December, 2018

bits of paper blown by the wind white flutterbys

Failed Haiku #36 December, 2018

touch screen -
the eyes of a child
in juvie

Failed Haiku #32 August, 2018

frozen lake -
I hesitate to break the ice
between us

Failed Haiku #32 August, 2018

smell of the barn at dawn
she nuzzles my hair
as I stoop over her shit
the occasional impatient tap
of a hoof
and the first rays through the crack
as I unfasten the latch and begin
to pull the door aside
she is right beside me
then gathering ourselves
all at once, we heave together -
I pulling back,
she surging forward