Steeped in the language of alcohol, cigarettes, anger and bird shit, the poems and prose poems of Eric Smiarowski have something to say about the relative worthiness of life and the way we must call it into question. Unrelentingly dark, these pieces viciously assassinate our concepts of friendship, salvation, and self-esteem, attacking the illusions we hold most dear.
Name: Eric Smiarowski
Lives: Albany, NY
I've been writing for a while. I started reading at open mic's to find the voice which I prefer to be heard in. My poems are written to be read aloud and with different inflections. I enjoy being heckled and anyone worth their salt should welcome such affection. While I believe in publishing the written word, that is only half of it. The other half lies in performance. My poems are honest even when I am not. The only things I am afraid of are police and fraud investigators. If you aren't one of these two things, feel free to contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Eric's works here at Unlikely Stories are:
This Will Happen
An Ego Fart
Pulled Pork Manifesto