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| john sweet |  | 1. flowers and this is dali in his bed of flames, and this is any war you can think of smell of shit and burning flesh and the corpses of children no need for art no need for artists and so this is dali, old and useless, and this is kay sage this is gorky just stands there in the corner wth his feet not quite touching the ground 2. secret country you write about hate so much that you stop considering love don’t become like the fuckers in power don’t give them even this one small victory 3. dreams of starvation & decay looks like a storm has hit, or a war, but no all eyes are bruised coming up hard against the landscape here grey hills, brown fields, dirty snow falling from a late winter sky smell of burning oil when you turn the heater on radio dead all history is the history of failure, of course all lives wind down at their own speed twenty miles to home, and then nothing to do when you get there but crawl | |
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