Welcome to Understanding Weakness, a place for poetry, stories, and essays. My name is Sean Lynch, and I’ve been writing poems and stories since I was ten. I’m currently working as an editor for Rocky Wilson’s upcoming poetry collection, which will be published by Whirlwind Press. Also, my own debut poetry collection is in the works. Thanks for reading and above all the meaningful dialogue.
October 30, 2013 5 Comments
In foreign air where your ancestors breathed
no longer than a century ago, you
comforted a belle whose fiance was
lost in twisted charred metal. Look back and
think about how that should have been your fate;
the poison in his system only tasted
sweet for so long. When words came out of his
mouth the acrid smell of death lingered, and seminal thoughts
rush back through your mind and below your spine
in tidal waves of lust, touching thighs under
the table, that was enough of a contact
in order to transfer the tension of
a dead man and his now tranquil lover.
Accidental gravity remains as
the only not so distant memory.
October 29, 2013 2 Comments
Sonia Sanchez has been remarkable in her tenure as Philadelphia’s inaugural poet laureate, which began in 2012, and ends in two months due to the mandated two year term limit. Sanchez, who just turned 79 in September, is an internationally renowned and influential poet whose poetry is often categorized under the Black Arts Movement, which is often called the sister to the Black Power Movement. Sanchez, in spite of her frail health, has propagated poetry in Philadelphia during her tenure, and her most tangible accomplishment was the “Peace is a Haiku Song” mural on Christian street, a beautiful painting featuring children, poetry, and origami swans; the mural was “inspired by Sanchez’s belief that the haiku form is inherently non-violent in its intent and structure and engenders beauty, serenity, and brief reflection.”
October 14, 2013 4 Comments
A sack of flesh and bones
controls a machine at a
weight of two tons,
(including the sack, two tons,
one hundred and fifty eight
and a half pounds) moving
in spite of all the friction, at
a velocity which can almost
guarantee a different kind of trip
if circumstances, (a bump, a thought,
indigestion, another sack) cause
the mind to shift its own gears
into uncontrollable dimensions.
It’s almost always uncontrollable.
Although somehow that thin blade
between almost and always allows
the sack’s muscles to react and
lets the undeserving mind go on
on borrowed time.