CHANCE ENCOUNTER

featured in the poetry forum January 2, 2017  :: 0 comments

When she asks, Would you like to seduce me?,
I scissor her illusionist hips & say,
I live here, even though I’m passing through.

She folds four porcelain knuckles
beneath her chin & muses, This universe
needs work. A slave is a slave is a slave is a slave
& time to abolish this ungodly nonsense.

I agree & pursue what I came for: Quantum
lightning in every sector of my brain before
she fluffs one 4000 thread jasmine wing,
twists & says, I’m buried to my chest in sin. It’ll take
more than guilty kisses to set me free. How about you?

Not hearing well, these days, I sprinkle organic
thoughts into a skillet primed with extra virgin,
cold pressed olive oil, Greek, & sprigs of Italian
parsley, immune to the future.

editors note:

Salvation by sautee, best served without guilt. – mh clay

NO MATTER WHERE YOU ARE

featured in the poetry forum October 3, 2015  :: 0 comments

Tiny space . . . now clockwise . . . or left
to left, excuse me, I meant right; I don’t
appreciate interruptions, normally, but
reminds me of the time that I, hosting
a General Manager from Massachusetts,
& he entered a posh restaurant, Crystal City,
via the freight elevator.

Everyone cheered when from their kitchen
elevator filled with crates of cabbages,
corn husks & carrots, two sheepish suits
emerged.

Though well attended to, as I recall, water
glasses brimming, plates disappearing like
Houdini’s & desserts piling up like the usual
quid pro quo.

editors note:

The magic of diversion; cabbages, suits and Houdini’s plates. I’ll take this for that. Yes! – mh clay

ACCOUNT OF SUFFERING

featured in the poetry forum September 2, 2014  :: 0 comments

The difference between
skunk slush & iguanas,
scorpions on your tongue,
Aristotle like the feathered rawhide tip
of a whip, the noose, the noose,
the mannequin behind GM airbag
or the rollover retirement
along a bruised halogen stretch
of Alligator Alley.

editors note:

Ouch! Like the lady said, “…might as well live.” – mh

THE TERRESTRIAL SAINT PREPARES A DELICIOUS PASTA DISH

featured in the poetry forum October 12, 2013  :: 0 comments

Grey finches
fly
from your thoughts
as you retrieve
the harness
dropped
at the feet
of imagination.

You prepare
several heaping dishes
with plum tomatoes
and burnt cheeses
resembling the stained outline
of a 15th Century Italian map
tacked
to the backside
of a pantry door
hidden
among a natural stone ribbon
of pale blue farmhouses
in Southern Italy.

The earth
is such a part
of our skin
that our emotions
tremble
like cicadas’
glass beads
being pulled
through the reluctant hips of a blond harp.

You reach
for your fallen harness,
only to find it
vaporized
into cinnamon-colored mushrooms
thriving
quite nicely,
now,
among the debris
of your dead thoughts.

editors note:

Ah, to dine at the table of this sweet muse. Let’s eat! – mh

NEWLY FLOWERING MYTHS

featured in the poetry forum August 7, 2013  :: 0 comments

We’re intricate wheels.

Vessels.

Pumping blackberry houseflies
through our veins.

We remember diminutive horses
too small to indenture,
wire-haired cats
with sulfur teeth
prowling our favorite paths to water.

We’ve sold
ourselves as souvenirs
at quasi-Medieval festivals.

We thought we recognized
the grim reaper’s robe and beard,
but, alas…

Entrapment?

This is the same irony
that fueled
the great Westerns
of Newman and Brando.

This is the irony
of fate,
if you believe in that sort
of thing.

The irony that grinds
our perfectly healthy words
into illusions, thus, sprouting
our latest bouquets
of newly flowering myths.

editors note:

A circular koan: Tell me the sound of fate forming a myth making fate forming a myth making… – mh

ANOTHER FIRST DATE

featured in the poetry forum May 23, 2012  :: 0 comments

At the risk of being misconstrued,
your shoulders fluffed themselves
like flamingo feathers darkling brine
below the ankle-deep Atlantic.

Like a puffer fish your shoulders
inflamed each organic fold of engorged lip over lip,
thunder clouds tattooing your coral neck.

Ah, that’s how I’ll always remember
our delicious kisses
that night you left a sandal,
or someone left a sandal,
(right one as I recall) on that seawall
barely two hundred moonlit yards
below the spidery legs
of the Lake Worth pier.

editors note:

Sandals on a seawall need not be notches on a gun; no trophies, just sweet reminiscences. – mh

SEPTEMBER DUSK

March 12, 2011  :: 0 comments

A hawk’s cinnamon wings slice the air
just above a muscular waist of oak leaves.

Cuts a clean, fresh swath.

The scar, oblong, half-circled,
and stitched by white ashes,
falls from a jade silence.

WHITE SONNET

featured in the poetry forum March 12, 2011  :: 0 comments

One dreams
while the other
resembles a lost freight train’s
elephant call.

They both have wings
as witnessed
by broken eggshells and coffee grounds
mulched into the clay garden.

A lusty breeze’s bulging mouth
sneaks its young
through a barbed wire fence.

Releases them
on the opposite side
of the universe.

THE NIGHT CYNTHIA DEBARTOLO STOLE A GIANT INFLATED SINCLAIR GAS STATION DINOSAUR

featured in the poetry forum November 16, 2010  :: 0 comments

First the inflated Sinclair gas-station dinosaur
came down
stuffed comfortably into the back seat
of your Plymouth convertible.

Then the routine Ft. Pierce patrol car
idled up beside your
morning-glory-blue eyes
with their canary specks
flickering off the Atlantic.

What’d you hope to gain
by absconding with that dinosaur?

Or perhaps it wasn’t the dinosaur after all,
so much as your heavy kisses
two months later
clouding my ’57 Chevy’s back windows
like steam billowing from large pots
of boiling potatoes.

CHILDHOOD
(For Rusty McClain)

featured in the poetry forum September 18, 2010  :: 0 comments

Hanging in the closets
of childhood
were secrets
followed by
embarrassments,
and small hand guns,
bluejays
of injustice
cocked
against cool darkness.

And just below the sweatshirt
not worn
in weeks,
slept
the pearl-handled
egalitarian life
you were promised.

As anxiety
carved your
adolescent
grief,
each dawn
you arose
an outcast Phoenix
from the ashes
of your dreams.