EPITAPH for Tim O’Brien (1995–2016)   Seabirds at sundown skim toward the horizon’s glassy rim; the day’s pure light grows dim as we remember him.   The echo of his name like a wind-blown flame gutters in the frame of the gateway we all came   through to find this place. The teeming human race now occupies less space in the absence of his face.   The birds remained unmoved that someone who was loved should have been removed from ground they swoop above,   and their indifference converts his absence into a cheering sense of eternity’s present tense. Jamie…