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Shane Hunt Oct 2013
I reflect upon our shared moments
much the way
an alcoholic
stares into an empty tumbler
he can't afford a refill...
Shane Hunt Jan 2013
The needle-tip,

a bee sting

giving rise to a hive.

A sickening delirium
coursing mercurial under eyelids,

tapeworms and tendrils
weaving wildly:

teeming, churning tides breaking over
greedy teeth (a needy mouth

flaying flesh ferociously,
a fevered wolverine
whipping through a petting zoo).

Each agonizing second
slowly sliding by,
tacky molasses on cloth
covering a table in an innocuous
American home
bruises on mother's face
fade (eggplant to jaundice
to the crimson of the setting sun
dying behind the horizon
line {chopped across a counter-top
like a broken promise...}).  

All the lives we compromise

trying to cage a swarm.
I'm really unsure about this. In an attempt to create a chaotic feeling I'm afraid it's just vague or a collection of jarring imagery. Thoughts?
Shane Hunt Jan 2013
The grace of God was painted
on the canvass of your soft skin,
but you don't see it.

I try to touch it,
but you secret it away
like a scar,
or deformity.

I pray for strength,
but the devil propositions
where God charges admission...

no one knocks a free ride.
Shane Hunt Oct 2012
will distort this moment—

(an oasis
in the desert of memory)

the simple
wonder of the instant diminished

as gemstones
depreciated by display upon

a gold band.

Focus fades
in inching instants

(a shutter
slowly closing over a lens)

and we
imperceptibly surrender

to these evanescing essences of

youth and reminiscence.
Shane Hunt Oct 2012
... ravening wolf's
blood-caked maw
plumes of condensation
    to evidence exertion.

He guards his ****
with a dogged dread,

for I
am an
Shane Hunt Oct 2012
My eyes fly
to the swatch of sack-cloth
abandoned in a corner of the floor,
no doubt considered
for use in a patchwork at some point.

I wonder if it mourns
its shortcomings.
Shane Hunt Oct 2012
A querulous cry
from my peckish feline
failed to rouse me from sleep:

teeth entangled in the meat of my palm,
this hideous beast
bucked conventional wisdom in
deciding to bite a hand
to prompt a feeding.

I am considering the adage
of there being more than one way
to skin a cat.
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