Poetry

“Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.” – Carl Sandburg

Gutter Balls: A Poem

The bottle stops the clock.

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CODA: A Poem

The fit seizes me—I drift— tearing sound of shot silk— plosions below. Gray sun changes to pale yellow wash. Milt bops. Duke downshifts. Bessie kneels from midnight to sun        in golden chains. Thin hipped, thin lipped, you come trailing your bluest India, weeping to any night switchman, tickling his crotch— Sex, you sing, is just […]

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Je Ne Sais Quoi: A Poem

To snooze? Two gaunt men–the one I visited yesterday with bones older than mine; the other, today, my age. I wish to make a gift of my fat. I have more than I need. Yes, but the mysterious laws of this planet, do not permit it. If masters there be, in India, or in the […]

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Female Bodhisattva: A Poem

When you die, you will look back
upon the motley, hurley-burley carnival
with a tiny pentagram of wry compassion
in your open, trusting eye

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Rushing Toward Entelechy: A Poem

Come sit with me, in valleys
of my shoulder blades,
whistle something in my ear

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The Bag Lady: A Poem

No PC art could rescue her;
this thinness where thick plump belongs.

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Caught in Lesser Tragedies: A Poem

In a beauty shop called Perfect Look
your blindness sits upon a couch.

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An Ass that Sees Pants…

"Any man of sense would remember that the eyes are doubly confused from two different causes, both in passing from light to darkness and from darkness to light; and believing that the same things happen with regard to the soul also, whenever he sees a soul confused and unable to discern anything he would not […]

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The Broken Promise: A Poem

I promised you, I know, I know—
I’d wash a gravel pile of clothes

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The Gargoyle: A Poem

It’s half-past two,
sunny as a shiny penny
rubbing pockets of the world.

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The Going: A Poem

“The ceremony of innocence is drowned…”

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The Orphan: A Poem

Mother, you are my dream scroll…

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For You: A Poem

dear nobody, I have taken drugs to calm the pale pearl faced woman with red hair that lives inside me my sweet mania (you saw her briefly, fled from her open legs) I had to lure her with the glassy green globes of chloral hydrate, drape her in the dark mourning of depression and as […]

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Six Poems by John Sweet

  words like black blood from the frozen ground: a psalm and twenty years later you still dream of your childhood house on fire you turn to me for all of the things i can no longer give you the names of streets or of old lovers or the reassuring weight of lies and everything […]

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A Woman is Like a Cow

Just before I reached puberty, my Maltese father told me, “A woman is like a cow, always with one eye opened and one eye closed.” And I wondered if he’d meant only my mother. Just before my wedding day, my father told me what he’d meant: “A woman always pretends she can’t see anything, but […]

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