Jon Butter

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Best Poem of Jon Butter

Blue Skies

On the outside,
You can't see what's eating him.
No more treatments are available.
He lives on milky white liquid
Dinner pumped into his body at
84 ccs per hour,
A teaspoon every 3.57 minutes.
No one can say how many
More days, hours, or teaspoons.

I asked him what he wants
To pray for.
His eyes don’t open for
Most of our visit.
He says, “Blue skies.”

He is a pilot.

He flew in the war,
Then for two different commercial
Carriers over thirty-two years.
He averaged 423 passengers a week,
17,766 every twelve months. ...

Read the full of Blue Skies

The Ends

Hemingway called it “blackass.”
I call it The Ends.
The place where no one visits:
Even if they could,
They wouldn’t stay.

There are no sunny days
Or candy canes
Down here.