Piker Press — Weekly Journal of Arts and Literature
May 04, 2026

[just keep saying no to me]

"...what’s left is the present..."

[just keep saying no to me]

and everything up to this moment,
up to this poem,
up to this word, has become the past,
and what’s left is almost but
not quite
what matters

what’s left is the present and
still
the future is waiting

and still
the future is wasted

and once you’ve learned to crawl
there’s never anywhere left
for you to go but down







More by John Sweet → More poetry → Full issue →
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