
michael sweeney /
3 POEMS
delivered
Obsessed, over the moon, climbing out
from under the otherside.
All the walls of my brain have moved
outward about a country-wide.
Like,
ten or twenty feet,
or somethin' strange like that.
So rich with blood, electrical wiring,
nerves of flesh in pain.
Hearts with marks.
Targets at a multiversal shooting range.
The fact we're all tripping over
the dumb, hunky reasons we're here.
It's just too funny.
A touch too awkward.
We'll figure it out sometime,
or die trying and it's the same thing really.
spiral
The four corners that carry this burning,
high, functioning clown,
are under appreciated by Him.
A clock for a face and hands
like immortal magnets,
deciphering the positives and negatives.
And their influences,
inspirations.
Making digital trips
across the pond(ering).
Rooms within rooms.
Walls that are all window.
I wonder what is in the next one.
loco motive
Her overreaching range
through uncomfortable empathy.
Something about
the painful welcoming.
Tranquil in the mess of mass.
It gets more difficult to unriddle
right from wrong.
Sometimes,
it's a great day early in the morning.
Expanding your mind through the trapdoors
of your esteemed self.
Less and less ego,
becoming trippier,
more chameleonic.