John Sweet

poem as self-evident truth

and death does not = great art
but don’t tell the dead man this

let the fucker bleed a little more
let the neighbors wake up
               too late
          in a house on fire

there is no loss so great it could
ever compare to your own

a celebration

and if every story ends with your death, and
if all of your lovers know this

if they stay up late and laugh about it
with their husbands, their wives, their soulmates

if your children are bored
with your pain

tell them whatever it is that will
hurt them the most and be done with it

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