Patrick Sweeney



traveling the astral plane of Bacall's blue exhalation


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never having been to war I dance as they shoot at my feet


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first the dinosaurs and then the aunts and uncles


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so lost I sat down on the curb and waited


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petroglyphs and saber-toothed tigers I don't have a phone


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red maple leaf let me stop you right there


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he wants to know if he could fill the application out at home


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he likes equations in which all the solutions are painted shut

Patrick Sweeney is a writer of short form poetry, who delights in jotting down the insignificant thoughts and images that constitute the lowly, livelong day.

 
 

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