the mathematics of distance and regret by John Sweet

not alive yet,
but getting there

eyes almost open, driving
north past collapsing barns and
empty pastures

smell of magnolias

smell of gasoline

considered telling my children
the truth but, in the end,
lies were easier

you learn to write
away from a thing

you approach it obliquely, from
a different direction entirely

the woman is
naked and beautiful

the trip is over

i sat there in the car waiting
for someone to come out
and greet me, but no
one ever did



John Sweet, b 1968, still numbered among the living. A believer in writing as catharsis. His latest collections include APPROXIMATE WILDERNESS (Flutter Press) and the limited edition HEATHEN TONGUE (Kendra Steiner Editions). All pertinent facts about his life are buried somewhere in his writing.