a political poem for forgotten ghosts |
and then what if you kill the
president but nothing changes?
what i'm talking about here
is a war that refuses to end
a starving child that will be reborn
only to starve...
Posted by john sweet on Sun, 20 Jan 2008 06:18:00 PST |
The Ghost of a Smile |
1.
First day of December and warm. Sixty degrees, pale sunlight, nowhere in particular, just upstate. Bare trees casting watery shadows down empty streets,...
Posted by john sweet on Sun, 20 Jan 2008 09:09:00 PST |
the ocean, at night |
it was the year picasso began
painting monsters
it was the year he died
small objects in silent rooms,
always moving, smell of dust,
taste of rain against
dirty windows
yo...
Posted by john sweet on Sat, 19 Jan 2008 03:48:00 PST |
blind stream |
offer prayers like tangled
cords, unplugged, grey light through
dirty windows into muted bedrooms,
books ignored in corners, clothes
on empty chairs, said this is the poem,
said this is the hour, but ...
Posted by john sweet on Fri, 18 Jan 2008 01:03:00 PST |
THE TRUTH, DISTORTED |
4 BOOKS W/ BRIGHT, SHINY COVERS
Posted by john sweet on Fri, 18 Jan 2008 07:43:00 PST |
Instructions for Drowning |
January and warm. Almost fifty, and the sky hung like leaded glass over everything. Luminous above the bare trees, above the rusting antennas and humming powerlines. Not like the idea of God, but like...
Posted by john sweet on Fri, 18 Jan 2008 03:19:00 PST |
Ascension |
With your naked ass pressed
hard against the bathroom wall,
with your legs wrapped tight around me
Threat of rain, of war, of too much
or not enough
This sickness tha...
Posted by john sweet on Fri, 18 Jan 2008 06:06:00 PST |
To California |
Man has the baby in the stroller next to him, has a hunting knife in his hand, says he wants a pack of cigarettes. Nothing else, just the cigarettes, and the clerk hands them to him slowly. ...
Posted by john sweet on Thu, 17 Jan 2008 02:33:00 PST |
deeper faith |
go a day without
hurting anyone and then
make it two
stand blessed
in cathedrals of light
stand blind at the edge of
any shallow grave
move beyond abstraction
pick a name
&...
Posted by john sweet on Wed, 16 Jan 2008 09:30:00 PST |
4th of July, 1st Memory |
Sitting on the back deck, enclosed on all four sides, open to the sky, sun beating down with this woman, possibly my mother, possibly my grandmother, drunk and talking to her dogs, dogs asleep in the ...
Posted by john sweet on Wed, 16 Jan 2008 03:27:00 PST |
