They called it the shallow graves, the place where death plays
Spin the broken needle. it snows in July under here.

Under the bridge they huddle in their cardboard palaces ,
psychedelic moments followed by the falling in to oblivions grasp.

They slept in their depthless tombs, blankets hiding that moment
Of alone time where that last hit was the one that hit home.

I watch as so many lives that once were, are now gone, this
Place of broken syringes and dreams. Sleeping in hollow mounds.

Your eyes-
coal black fire
mirrors of my desire

Your mouth-
warm bath of oaths
bespoken for

Your *******-
rouged red-bullet tipped
honeysuckled bliss

Those hips-my reins
move you the way
I need you most

and your kiss-
like a hiss from a dip
of a branding iron

burn me with your lips
and make me yours-
ride me into the abyss

-of sighs.

r ~ 9/25/14

to tree limbs
to mountains
to forefathers
from your gloom

reach for the heavens
grateful
for nature shows you

look up in the darkest sky
and stars sparkle

Year after year we see
The same scene,
Tears from trees

Brown leaves on the ground
From the trees
All around

Some are sad some are pleased
With the fall of
Brown tears from trees

One day of wind, all come down,
And then the leaves are
All around

What we see is poetry
In the country and the town
Brown teary trees

We are touched somehow
Memories are always found
When brown tears from trees
Are all around


Sean Hunt
Windermere November 4th 2015

I'll stop being me
Just for you
I'll be somebody new
Just for you

I've been seeing wrong
For a long time
I have been deaf
And blind
Thinking of 'me'
And 'mine'
Singing
My existential whine

It's time to stop
Just for you
Today I'll be
Somebody new


Sean Hunt
Windermere, Nov 3rd 2015

What Trees Mean To me

Nothing

I could live in the desert
I could live in the sea
I could live happily
Never seeing a tree

That's not to say
I don't enjoy
The seemingly
Endless trees
Within a tree

And
That's not to say
I don't enjoy
Many tree
Analogies

That's not to say
I wouldn't welcome
A breeze
And the shade
Of a tree
On a very hot day

But I could live in the desert
And I could live in the sea
I could live happily
Without
Ever seeing a tree
Or a daffodil

Sean Hunt
Windermere Oct 31st 2015

What a kiss last night!
Ultimate exquisite bliss
From only a kiss.
I was satisfied.
It was enough.
Unsurpassable.

No yearning for more
Or for something else,
No painful neediness,
No hedonistic greedy
Begging for
Those blasphemous bells
That shake the house
And douse the mind
With dullness and deadness
Then sleep.

I awoke
With the microscopic memory
Of a slow caresssing
Of mouths
And  tongues,
Of each holy moment,
And a silent sigh
Of ecstasy.

It was only a dream

Sean Hunt  
Windermere November 15 2015

I have been a therapist, and
I've been therapied
The brightest and the best
Have had a go at me

It hurt like hell, I tried to hide,
I wouldn't run away
The truth would out, for all to see,
All to see, but me

I learned to face my fear,
Be more honest, and more brave
I played a silly game
You see there was no face to save

We're mistaken and mislead
Down the twisted garden path
With the weather and the leather
To the bitter Grapes of Wrath

From the poisoned pedagogy
We recover one fine day
Our long suffering Tsunami  
Will finish like a play


Sean Hunt
(Sierra de Gredos mountains,  Spain...2015?)

I will die
'I' will die
This 'I' will die

Most meaningful
Creator
Of nothing
Teacher about
How
Nothing can be found
Heard, yes
Seen, no
Found, no
Not here, not there
Not on the ground
Or in the air
Never found
Anywhere
I speak of sound

Sean Hunt
October 2015