Tryst Feature Poet John Sweet

number 29, 1950, second attempt

these things seen
through sheets of glass
are almost real

think of history

understand that i would
place you against the
flawless blue sky and call you
beautiful

would pick at the same small wound
for thirty-eight years until it
came to define me

and i have spent my life
among men who claim to have found
god in a bottle

i have tasted
my father's ashes

will spend the rest of my life
hurting the people i love
and calling it art

all i ask is
that i be forgiven


© 2002 John Sweet


Featured Poetry
the collapse of the human cathedral: a premonition
to starve in a house we call home
a footnote to the season of rust
poem as a noose
stealing the title to atwood's notes towards a poem that
can never be written

the body dissected and the cancer laid bare, (later)
building something darker in the ruins of the human cathedral
a cold spring afternoon in the world of darker truths
the poet runs out of words

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