WORDS ARE LOST FROM MY HANDS TO MY MOUTH

NEW WORK @

DUANE’S

POETREE

https://duanespoetree.blogspot.com/2019/04/john-sweet-writes.html

EVERYBODY ON A TRAIN HAS TO GET SOMEWHERE

it was never the moment but

the whole of history leading up to it

my apology arriving too late to save my father

a room of ideas set on fire

nothing of any real importance lost and

the body found in the closet just one more

pointless story with no real moral and

it went like this

the indians wouldn't die fast enough

the gold was worth more than

mothers nursing babies

it tasted like fast food and the children were

always hungry and none of the highways ended

until they'd fell into the ocean

the future arrived with the sound of a

plane hitting the north tower and

then it was gone

we were naked

were rolling in broken glass

called it love because we were

bleeding and then

ten years passed and all we had were scars

all we believed in was money

all i had were my poems

twenty million meaningless words to

hang onto while i drowned

BORED WITH THE IDEA OF JESUS CHRIST

BLOGNOSTICS,

BABY!!!!

https://blognostics.net/blognostics-an-innovative-experience-in-literature-poetry-and-art/2019/04/17/prayer-for-crows-starving-by-john-sweet/

LANDSCAPE W/ PORTENT

YOUR FEAR OF DEATH WILL SERVE YOU WELL

OVERLOAD

ONE PERFECT DAY, HELD APART FROM ALL THE OTHERS

A PROMISE AND A LIE

CLOSER TO THE HEART OF THINGS

WE ARE DIFFERENT SHADES OF SILENCE

WHY THE HELL

AREN’T YOU

IN THE KNOW??!!

http://www.magcloud.com/browse/issue/1582605

AND SO WHAT? AND SO WHAT? AND SO WHAT?

DIG THE

RABID OAK!

https://rabidoak.com/issues/issue-12/a-fragile-place/

FEELS LIKE WE NEED A WAR HERE

ANGER,

ANGST

AND

BILE

@ RAMINGO’S PORCH

https://ramingoblog.com/2019/04/08/the-ramingos-porch-poems-in-two-directions-and-other-works-by-john-sweet/

IN THIS AGE, THE DEATH OF EVERYTHING

THERE IS ONLY TIME TO BE ALIVE

YOU WERE BORN UNKNOWN, YOU WILL DIE UNKNOWN

Publisher decided to drop this one,
apparently I wasn't keeping up my end promoting it.
I'll probably do a reprint of it one of these days, 
so don't go spending $500 for a copy at some
fly-by-night used book dealer.
Mostly because none of that money
will go to me.

THE FUTURE EMPTY, AND YOU IN THE DISTANT PAST

SCRAWL

hands searching empty

pockets for pills

for your address or your

phone number

any of a hundred thousand different

meaningless addictions on a

grey sunday afternoon and in the

2:00 silence there are all of the sounds

we no longer make and all of the

ones we never hear

in between this collapsing palace and

the distant ebb and flow of

freeway traffic is the field where we

lost van gogh or the one where

pollock lost himself

no rain and then rain and

my youngest son wants to know why

it’s so depressing

asks me while i stand on the

sidewalk looking up at the cracked and

leaking gutter

says he wants to go to

his mother’s house

says he’s afraid of me when i yell but

the phone never rings and the

bills are never paid on time and

the last painting i ever finished was

                                     20 years ago

was a landscape that i painted over a

portrait of the only woman i

ever loved, and then i threw it out

at some point anyway

wore my funeral shoes to my

sister’s wedding

crawled to the river’s edge on the

morning of my father’s death and

vomited up 25 years of resentment

walked back home barefoot

felt good just to bleed for reasons

that were finally my own

THE SUBTLE SHAPE OF EMOTION

PUT THE BOOT IN

NO AMOUNT OF POETRY WILL EVER CURE CANCER

FEARLESS  67

https://archive.org/details/Fearless67

LITTLE GODS DIG LITTLE HOLES

THE FIRST OF A FEW AT

BLOGNOSTICS

https://blognostics.net/blognostics-an-innovative-experience-in-literature-poetry-and-art/2019/03/31/walls-between-us-by-john-sweet/