in the act of failure,

in the hands, in the heart, in this
mouth filled with sharpened teeth

but not my own

a warmer violence

sunlight or a bleeding fist

a thought,
but turned outward,
twisted, stretched into
some new shape

the highway maybe, where it
arcs out around the city

the city as it falls into ruin

a cancer? a virus?

slow decay, in any event, with
the houses all collapsing in on
themselves, the cellars filled
with bones, old yearbooks, baby shoes

the past is the enemy, of course,
because everyone dies


a theory, maybe
but not a solution,
and then what?

the movies, the books, the
songs, and what do they all
have in common?

they end

they fade

not the city as it
is, but the city

the heart,
which betrays the body

the body, which
doesn’t stand a chance

we will all feel better
when we’re gone

John Sweet

John Sweet sends greetings from the rural wastelands of upstate NY. He is a firm believer in writing as catharsis, and in the continuous search for an unattainable and constantly evolving absolute truth. His latest poetry collections include A FLAG ON FIRE IS A SONG OF HOPE (2019 Scars Publications) and A DEAD MAN, EITHER WAY (2020 Kung Fu Treachery Press).