Four New Orleans Poets, Pt. 3: Erik Vande Stouwe

Erik is actually reading a poem in this picture...

Thermos is pleased to present the third of our four New Orleans poets, the towering (and terrifying?) Erik Vande Stouwe. Erik came from New York to New Orleans two and a half years ago to attend Tulane University. He studies Russian and tutors at an elementary school. He has pursued λόγος in its various guises and may grow old before he is wise. He is ever ballasted by his friends.



Today divulgent,
the border, whereupon
the grama grass has jostled
a boundary, stem from stem,

blade from blade,
began to draw apart

the plastic and metal crumbs of an era;
the city bespoke itself, sunblown, the glorious ugly

replete, overjarred and resigned.


Their shoes, tesserae,
athwart aloft,
aloft athwart
evince the city.

Below, counterevidence churns,
belies, and sunders
the tabernacle.

An argument multiplies
upon the cracking asphalt:

reversible drum.


“The soil constellate”
bound within which the weft unbinds
(deliquescent, bold),
becomes to pertain, renews.

“The rose’s rose rose rose.”
Botanically, much occurred,
neither not enough nor evil.

“The floor’s a flawed logic,”
head too far from his feet, one figures.

Echoless earth.


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