what was there

there were particular pawnshops
we frequented when hypnotized.

there were nights when the burning withstood
and art did not seem so important,
when it was 5 a.m. in candyland

and all the wormwood in the world
couldn't get through to the suffocated. 

dogfood
for marc

eight times a week
but never in a row
we played out our sad
often disturbed cartoons

every tree, every lamppost
every fire hydrant was game
as the mice and cats scurried
for cover

we sniffed each other
for imagination and whispered
our soulful into their
perpetual kennels

we defeated the odds
by barking over theirs
the all too mutual aura
of tiresome bone yards

who but us
ever had the nerve
in those policed streets
of alien watching

to bite
where dogs were not
even allowed
to piss

Peter Schwartz is a poet, author, painter and playwright. He has close to 100 poems published or pending. He has fiction due out with Pindeldyboz, Dispatch and Monkeybicycle. He has digital artwork on display at HiNgE, SubtleTea and The Pedestal Magazine. He is currently working on getting two of his plays into production. See a sample of his controversial journal at Watch the Eye. This is the only poetry journal specifically focused on showcasing the work of editors themselves.

Email: Peter Schwartz

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