New Featured Artist : Dan Rodriguez

New Featured Artist : Dan Rodriguez
Mad Swirl is mighty proud to feature photographer, Dan Rodriguez. Dan has been a big part of our Swirl world for years, capturing the swirlin’ scene at our monthly open mic (see hundreds of his open mic pics here). What we never knew was that Dan started out as a medical photographer. Now it all makes[read more]

The Best of Mad Swirl : 09.15.18

The Best of Mad Swirl : 09.15.18
"Art is a fruit that grows in man, like a fruit on a plant, or a child in its mother's womb" Jean Arp ••• The Mad Gallery ••• “Rodeo Diver” (above) by featured artist Stephen VanderHaar To see ALL of Stephen's innocently twisted & mad illustrations, as well as our other featured artists, visit our Mad Gallery! ••• The Poetry[read more]

The Best of Mad Swirl : 09.08.18

The Best of Mad Swirl : 09.08.18
"Some things have to be believed to be seen." Ralph Hodgson ••• The Mad Gallery ••• “Walrus performing his morning ablutions” (above) by featured artist Stephen VanderHaar To see ALL of Stephen's innocently twisted & mad illustrations, as well as our other featured artists, visit our Mad Gallery! ••• The Poetry Forum ••• This last week on Mad Swirl's Poetry Forum...[read more]

LONE MOUNTAIN TURQUOISE

In
this
Lone
Mountain
turquoise
set
in
sterling
silver…
I
see
traces
of
all
the
faces
I’ve
bluffed
along
the
way

– K.W. Peery

editors note: Haunted? Or, humbled? Depends on the take… – mh clay

Recently Published

KINDNESS ALL ON

When there is direct active verbal sparring
And people at each other senselessly sharp lash,
Or when head to foot in the thick of it downright jarring
Discordant[read more]

Precarious Is an Understatement

I am perched
atop a knife edge
balanced on a dead
tree trunk
on the lip of a volcano
suspended on a sheet of melting ice
floating on an ocean boiling[read more]

MY TRUSTY COMPANION

Another Friday night and home alone
Beer by my side whilst my mind contemplates
Just one more smoke as tonight don’t feel
Like one of those nights;[read more]

A Wind-Bent Daffodil

A Wind-Bent Daffodil

He asks me to count to ten. I am lying in a bare and chilly room on a very high and narrow bed, which he helps me to mount with the aid of a few steps. I’m wearing a pair of feather-light slippers. He looks so ridiculous in his green cap, a strange color for such a muscular man who slits the human flesh. I shiver. "Are you scared?" he asks with a kind smile. "Terribly so," I answer, thinking of my mother across the seas and her grief in case I[read more]
NUMB

NUMB

George Tango sat on the L train, on the gray, hard seat. He spotted a Liz Smith gossip column headline in an open News, spread wide by a middle-aged man in a slightly weird, off-green Hamburg hat. George got off the train dulled by the headline of Liz Smith, dulled by the weather, dulled by life. He walked one-half block on Graham Avenue, then followed two Italian-looking, 16 year old girls, with long, jet black hair, pierced,[read more]
BLACK ROOMS

BLACK ROOMS

I was in a considerable state of nervous overload when the Black Rooms made their first appearance in my young life. That life had been one of panic and slip sliding instability. Evictions again and again from a long succession of scabrous hovels the merest step from wretched homelessness. All of them grotesquely filled with gobbling monstrous ghouls. Such places had dominated long distorted years at my most impressionable. Sly tripwires of Fate apparently intent on casting me painfully down at every new step. [read more]