Patrick Sweeney


the mind of a glue-huffin' medieval monk in the present continuous


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rainy season
Proust set
as default 


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by the time I got back
with his Chesterfields
dad was a wrought iron fence


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pre-biological
post-biological
sand and wind and iron rain

Patrick Sweeney: Bedwetter in the germline of pyromaniacs and wild foxes. Constitutionally nervous, ecologically alarmed. Heart half-buried at Stinsford. A life spent dropping imaginary pennies off the Empire State Building.

 
 

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