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dreaming america
"I'm 35, a father, angry at a great many things, overeducated, underpaid, deeply in debt, one dead car in the driveway, just waiting for my neighbors to move. Recent work has appeared in DUFUS!, remark, Above Ground Testing and 63channels. Recent collections include "Enemy," a chapbook from PinkAnarchkittyPress.com; "Silence in the House of Truths," an e-chapbook available at Tamafyhr Mountain Poetry; and "Human Cathedrals," a tasty little full-length collection of angst and bile available from Ravenna Press."
By John Sweet
the streets all smeared white on
sunday morning
and the sunlight without end
the names of the dead
written down then forgotten
what they sound like is silence
like human bones falling
from the sky
the shadows they cast on
empty fields
bare trees rising up
out of black water on the
edges of all the worthless towns
i've ever lived in
all of the people i've left behind
the ones i've
been left behind by
and what our words
eventually form are maps
but none of the missing are found
and none of the beaten
comforted
and your sister finds
a new lover
forgets the
names of her children
their faces
mistakes desperation for love
nothing any of us haven't
done at some point
Published November 2005
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