I am sitting here in my room
Closing my eyes
I see all of you
Out there somewhere
Suffering and torturing
Not any faults of yours
Still getting what you don’t deserve
This is the way of life
Even if we say to fight it all
Sometimes it is beyond our control
We are limited by our thoughts
Breaking free is just not meant to be
I say to you with all my heart
I weep for you in the silence of the dark
Be strong and steady
Let your tears just out to be
Make it the elixir and heal
The time will come when all will be gone
A dawn will eventually come
Even if not in this life
May be in the life beyond
Don’t let go of the hope
Remember that I am here
Weeping for those who cannot weep…

dancer that you were, you embraced the breeze
and rode its draughts like a lyrical butterfly
but soon your little dance too was done
and your dazed children wailed in the ill wind.
you succumbed to the unknown call of the cosmic bound,
thus lost and stunned we stared at the unfathomable void:
as the erudite sage said, life is about gains and losses
but your going was like a sneaky blow below the belt
now that you're gone i've come to know the bitter loss
of a gifted life nipped in the bud before fruition time
and just how bewildering possibilities erased can be
i know too the cost of it all on torn and tattered mourners
but life does proceed in this way sometimes

The man from the east
Had so much to say
And it stays in our minds
Until today

“It's all about them
It's not about me;
Don't believe what you hear
Don't believe what you see”

We dream through the night
We dream though the day
Under sun or moon
We see the same way

Sean Hunt
Windermere, Xmas 2015

788

Joy to have merited the Pain—
To merit the Release—
Joy to have perished every step—
To Compass Paradise—

Pardon—to look upon thy face—
With these old fashioned Eyes—
Better than new—could be—for that—
Though bought in Paradise—

Because they looked on thee before—
And thou hast looked on them—
Prove Me—My Hazel Witnesses
The features are the same—

So fleet thou wert, when present—
So infinite—when gone—
An Orient’s Apparition—
Remanded of the Morn—

The Height I recollect—
’Twas even with the Hills—
The Depth upon my Soul was notched—
As Floods—on Whites of Wheels—

To Haunt—till Time have dropped
His last Decade away,
And Haunting actualize—to last
At least—Eternity—

every canary has a star in its' mouth
that can stop a .50 caliber bullet. and little black eyes.
the south face of a north wind
has always been polite
before shattering your bones,

it is peculiar, but the very thing that makes you breathe
makes you need too.
the fix is in.

II

cruelty is the soft grit of pitch dark.

III

every canary has another word for suffocation.
it rhymes with kerosene and licks its' teeth.
it sleeps in the barn. Feasting on horses -
and dung.
it sounds like falling and glowing, but feels like
extinction. it obliterates the need for another word
for Hope.

Or something else as trivial... to abandon.

She fell for me, too slow,
As the fabric was, off her bed,
     Slithering,
An hour late for all night long,
Few seconds close to dreaming,
The moon's crippling crescent,
The sleight, the curves of these waters,
     All pronations that are for me,
     Were for me, and mine only, only
That everything smells like fresh pajamas,
Only that this time, for a very long time,
I am waiting, and it sounded
     Like true love.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

In the quiet cold wind
The blue bird stirs
It flutters its wings
Among pines and burrs

The sting of the night
Is fresh on the air
The absence of light
The death of a prayer

The blue bird flutters
Its eyes the only light
Silently it mutters
Feathers caught in flight

Its blue blur beckons
Briskly bustling away
Eyes set on the heavens
Flying for the break of day

Sharp rocks mark my skin
Ice water fills my boots
There is a distinctive high whine
followed by a deafening explosion
4 dead
7 injured
The screams and shrieks
of men
who feel like boys
calling for their mother
or for a god
are drowned out by the
fast paced “clickclickclick”
13 dead
10 injured