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Chad Sweeney – from An Architecture

Chad Sweeney


from An Architecture

My solitude
 shaped like a city
distinct

from your solitude
shaped like a city.


   A mobile
hung in bones—

embalmed in whiskey and the hope
of danger—you

flow across with the crowd

at the urge of a flashing
hand—today

while the cherry the young
tree wears a storm

of blossom

beside the bulldozer and
wires.

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