a young girl's body
found in a ditch
at the edge of the desert

a sky scribbled in quickly
across the top of the page

blue trailing
raggedly to white
and in the early afternoon
de kooning comes to the door
with pollock's death
in his hands

this is how
the story of america
is told

randomly
and on a bitter day at
the end of march and with
quiet music playing in
another room

with my own
uncertain paintings
stacked against the walls and
the windows streaked
with grime

the storm blown over but
the cost not yet known

John Sweet, 33, has been writing for 20 years, publishing in the small press for 14. He is living proof of what spending too many years in upstate New York can do to a person. His time there is spent with his wife, their son, three cats and a second child on the way. Upcoming collections in 2002 include Approaching Lost (Via Dolorosa Press), Human Cathedrals (Ravenna Press) and Mapping the Room of Murdered Children (Black Hoody Nation). His recent work has appeared in Snow Monkey, Small Spiral Notebook, Slow Trains and Red River Review.

Have comments you'd like to send the author? Please e-mail JOHN SWEET at: Bleedinghorse99@aol.com or fill out the form below: