Poetry from Patrick Sweeney

listening to the Heart of the Sunrise in a field of radiant canola flowers 

even Vermeer's name glistens

my dead brother's apothegms keep bouncing off the walls 

dog-eared obituaries of old age

the inch worm when she's full grown

taking a night course on mass-extinction planning 

rainy night train crowded with philosophers

I'm on a Dirac diet of one word per hour

upgrading my inattention to transcendental occlusions

he was the kind of man who always came to a complete stop