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My mind is plowed with deep furrows
a thousand canals
through which hapless fantasy
rushes with such ease.
But on occasion
when I least expect it
the realms rain upon that soil
sprout seedlings
that glisten and giggle
turn this way and that
wild and tender
and full of life.
  Jul 10 Sean Fitzpatrick
Onoma
a purple apple tree abides

on a zephyrous hill.

wearing undone blindfolds

on its branches.

blown naked in the trust of

her figure eights, when they

came of her eyes.

as a pair of hands exchanging

crowns, to marry a Self-contained

undulation.

whose flux will never fade, with

the shock of imagining whose light

has suddenly been thrown on.
  Jun 19 Sean Fitzpatrick
Yasin
Sometimes
poems
make
me
want
to
write
in
a
crowd
of
only
one
person.
  Jun 19 Sean Fitzpatrick
Rebecca
i've learned well
what it feels like
to be both happy and unhappy
in the very same moment
in the very same breath.

in this transience
in these heartbeats
comfort, joy
and despair
all become one in the same.
i'm never more happy
and more sad all at once
as when I'm near you.
my dear sweet friend,
hug me again. let me feel it all.
at least the clouds are
smiling back

they have faces and
souls
and they stare back from their
blue canvas,
down on his *****, snot-smeared face

It’s a warm
sunny day
but the
bottom of the shallow, dry well
is cold and full
of critters

Well, no problem. The sky is so
pretty with all its smiling
faces that he
won’t even cry. He’ll stay there
and look up. Still waiting
for mother to return and
pick him up

Still waiting

Smiling back at the clouds

Still waiting
HEAR ME READ IT: https://soundcloud.com/user-937736610/smiling-back-at-the-clouds
met a stoner on the highway
who was crying like an angel
of grace, leavened
like the abacus of misery’s
loom, a fellow sun-washed
tarnished
goodness graced
ill-believer who
saw no distance in the stars
and burned his soul with needles,
coming down on a young child
eclipsing serial apocalypses
in calypso’s grace,
a *****,
or a *****, poisoned
on a long winter’s algebra
entering into a space of
infinite solitude within the held notion of all beings,
O Shadow,
oh strange manifest of worldly sin,
where is my friend, oh master of destinies,
what shape is he in? does the dream
of a lost dogs sorrow hypnotize
like the eyes of a sparrow,
shooting like an arrow from a
deep dark hello,
how does one to think?
know?
  Mar 3 Sean Fitzpatrick
Colm
Don't step to me or dance in bare feet
Climbing ladders to try and see my eyes
Or mountains to find some semblance of my breeze

I'm taller than you, but not by birth
Or by choice or selective meanings, no

My style is tall and trim and sleek
Sharper than steel and whetstone combined

"Where" ask, you've been seized?

I am the stars you cannot keep
The ocean sands you could not settle
And no such gift is equal to mind

This is me (in step)
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