The Bag Lady: A Poem
No PC art could rescue her;
this thinness where thick plump belongs.
Poetry
“If prose is a house, poetry is a man on fire running quite fast through it.”
—Anne Carson
Caught in Lesser Tragedies: A Poem
In a beauty shop called Perfect Look
your blindness sits upon a couch.
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 …
The Broken Promise: A Poem
I promised you, I know, I know—
I'd wash a gravel pile of clothes
The Gargoyle: A Poem
It's half-past two,
sunny as a shiny penny
rubbing pockets of the world.
The Going: A Poem
"The ceremony of innocence is drowned..."
The Orphan: A Poem
Mother, you are my dream scroll...
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 …
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 …
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 …