dorothea

all of these streets
like rivers of doubt
and all of us lost

some of us
left standing alone
in the room of empty chairs

some of us left
looking out the window

squinting in the glare
of sunlight on chrome or
on water

this man no one knows
who threatens to jump

who breaks the surface
without a sound
and is pulled out too late

and how many of these
small irreversible moments
will you live through?

how completely will
they come
to define your life?

picture the heat of august
dissolving into
the thin blue skies of
september

all of these people
you will never know
turning slowly to dust
behind locked doors

all of the ones
you love

About the Author

John Sweet, b 1968, still numbered among the living. A believer in writing as catharsis. Opposed to all organized religion and political parties. His latest collections include APPROXIMATE WILDERNESS (2016 Flutter Press) and the limited edition chapbooks HEATHEN TONGUE (2018 Kendra Steiner Editions) and A BASTARD CHILD IN THE KINGDOM OF NIL (2018 Analog Submission Press). All pertinent facts about his life are buried somewhere in his writing.