Mad Swirl Open Mic : 06.01.16

Mad Swirl Open Mic : 06.01.16
Join Mad Swirl & Swirve this 1st Wednesday of June (aka 06.01.16) at 8:00 SHARP as we continue to swirl up our mic madness at our mad mic-ness home, Dallas’ badass The Underpass Bar! This month we will be virtually featuring the fine folks from the Southern Collective Experience. Clifford Brooks (author, teacher, poet and[read more]

The Best of Mad Swirl : 05.21.16

The Best of Mad Swirl : 05.21.16
“What beauty is, I know not, though it adheres to many things.” ~ Albrecht Durer ••• The Mad Gallery ••• “toxic” (above) by featured artist Jeff Skele Sheely. To view more of Jeff's twisted beatific images, as well as our other featured artists, visit our Gallery at MadSwirl.com! ••• The Poetry Forum ••• This last week in Mad Swirl's Poetry[read more]

The Best of Mad Swirl : 05.14.16

The Best of Mad Swirl : 05.14.16
“Real beauty knocks you a little bit off kilter.” ~ David Byrne ••• The Mad Gallery ••• “God Less America” (above) by featured artist Jeff Skele Sheely. To view more of Jeff's twisted beatific images, as well as our other featured artists, visit our Gallery at MadSwirl.com! ••• The Poetry Forum ••• This last week in Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum...[read more]

The Fish Ladder at Diamond Hill

in some distant far off
sleight of hand
there stands a colossus
on its head

heart long ago
turned to stone
and breath to sand
ringing ringing ringing

eyes above the sheen
of kings
beyond the hollow
logs of barks
recording marks
of shallow ways
beyond their means
with bells that
rang and rang and rang

ears sheared
by cloud fleece tip
scales of kippered pounds
leaving their appointed
rounds writhing on grounds
of incriminations
discovered upward
sprawling
rung by rung by rung

Recently Published

May Journal: Friday, May 31, 2013

Late morning breezes riff the vines and
branches, playing hide and seek with small
promises tucked beneath wide open
leaves. Beside weathered fence slats, yellow
winks along cucumbers[read more]

Scissors Cut Paper

I
I can’t stop buying scissors. I walk into Home Depot for red geraniums, leave with gardening shears, green ergonomic handles. Piggly Wiggly for a roasting[read more]

America

men in suits,
and ties,
tribal warriors,
battling for turf,
believed their own,
naïve ignorant bastards,
boundaries shift,
and borders in dispute,
fears flamed,
culture assigned,
along with taxes.[read more]

F.T.P.

F.T.P.

“I think you like it rough.” Her eyes stared at the detective blankly. “Excuse me?” “And I think…” he sat back in his chair and clasped his hands over his belted khakis, “you didn’t want your parents to find out that you had sex with a black guy. You’re embarrassed, so you said it’s rape. Am I right?” His gold badge glimmered in the fluorescent lights. “No.” She let out a choked breath. “Not at all. I’ve had sex with plenty of black guys. Consensually. My first boyfriend was black. Plus I’m 28[read more]
Internet Dating

Internet Dating

Mick went out that evening. There was the Purity Restaurant over on 7th Street and 7th Avenue. Mick was a little down on his luck, figured 7, 11…dice, numbers like that. Walked into The Purity. The place used to be owned by a couple of Greeks and is now owned by a couple of Italians. It also relocated from Union and 7th recently in 2005 to 7th and 7th, changed the marquee from the color green to the color purple. The new sign is smaller than the older one. Mick noticed a[read more]
The Gun Shop

The Gun Shop

The gun shop sign, I have to admit, was shimmering. Other than that, it was a piece of shit, but the sun blessed the thing when I drove up. I was armed with statistics. My hands were shaky. I’d wanted to do this for a long time. I knew how many kids kill themselves with guns each year. I had citations for the number of housewives killed in Alabama. I knew how many accidental shootings, on-purpose shootings, gun show shootings, and every kind of shootings there were. In America. I didn’t[read more]