Cigarettes and Gasoline

featured in the poetry forum September 30, 2021  :: 0 comments

You gotta figure out a way to make it all work.
A symphony in two parts
The type of crescendo that leaves you wondering.
The type of connection that
Before the 30-minute happy hour couldn’t have been forecast at all.

Roll down the window.
A coastal breeze
Off the asphalt sea.
Dandelions crashing into the shore
Of 60 grit polishing wheels.
Open palm to the rush
And high five from god
To turn up radio math on the sundial
When I needed a push over the threshold to concentrate
In 4 week revolutions
Google says what the moon’s doing tonight.
And in colorful patches of day’s infinite possibility
We both see the backstop:
A wildcard.
Who at any moment
Could push all in.

editors note:

Here it is! Call or fold. – mh clay

90 Minute Bender

featured in the poetry forum July 8, 2021  :: 0 comments

wake up wet
head slung low, and stalking
a bolt of lightning
down the line
digging deep into tufts
of synthesized light
pumping ozone
into carbureted freedom
get with it man
no, i don’t
and i don’t
and then, i do
a catenary wave
progress, regression
these quickening exhibitions of lost control
to play and slay
a car on the railroad
chain of life

editors note:

With each of us a languorous link in the chain. – mh clay

After Twilight

featured in the poetry forum April 23, 2021  :: 0 comments

Check out how much stain this drier sheet caught.
If entropy had a color, it would be gray-blue.
I consider pristine white fiber.
Peaceful softness
Before being scoured of its fluffy edges.
Becoming dirty on the way to becoming clean
I want to believe there’s science here
That I am not second-hand victim to the patricians’ savvy;
To my own fool’s errand – principled endeavor
That it’s a small loss
And a meaningful win
And following harsh discord
Pull the lint catch
and roll off 2 feet of gray-blue tinder
Soft en route to the bin.

editors note:

Lint pickers by patricians’ paradigm; fragrant, if not clean. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum January 25, 2021  :: 0 comments

I’ll never unsee you, she says.
Desiring for a moonflower
In a barred mist fog
An Unbound cube
The pattern is chaos.
Then falling faster toward potential, or mass,
To settle upon a velvet leaf
Perfect potential is green.
An Unfurling tendril
A color with no name
A natural satisfaction.
I know you know, and so do I.
The mysteries of our construct
Space no matter for symmetry
Distance no heed for data
Entangled, the singing stars

editors note:

Mates in moon and flower and all. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum June 18, 2020  :: 0 comments

The market is a wire-haired dog
A wild and untamed beast
Refined with time
The lovable lug
But also a bitch
What does Rover do all day?
excitedly ate
The contributions on her plate
And searched for more
She wandered around some
Walked the same path until it was bare
Barked at the neighbors to remind them she was there
Evidence says Rover is the capricious sort
Snuggling up close when you’re winding down
And shitting on your porch tomorrow
I wonder what I would think of her if we had never met
She’s the best breed
When her owner’s pronouncements define her
And in the cold air of night
When quiet rests its hand on the shoulder of the seeker
I realize she’s just an animal
We all are

editors note:

Sniff the air. Bark or bite. Not bull or bear, but a bitch, all right. – mh clay

The rain remembers

featured in the poetry forum July 9, 2019  :: 0 comments

The rain remembers her lovelorn ponds
See how they roll and babble
Speaking life to the trees and wind
Baptized in color
The smell of wet chlorophyll and lightning
A soothing mass lofts her mallards, skating effortlessly
While white cranes flicker
In soul’s blue embrace
Her comforting message
You’re home
The rain remembers.

editors note:

Shelter in that blue embrace of soul. Remember? – mh clay

I had a question…

featured in the poetry forum April 2, 2019  :: 0 comments

I had a question I didn’t know the answer to,
So I asked google
What is happiness
Interviewing a design icon |,
She tells me that people look at Facebook to watch videos of puppies falling off logs
She told me she didn’t feel connected
When I asked what was bothering her
When she was crying about her mom who died 5 years ago
She should interview a design icon
I should ride a bike
I should stop writing and start working
I should focus
I should set a desk
By a window
With a lamp
And a cathedral ceiling
White on white
And with clean sheets
I ask google
How do I inoculate to the stress and the noise
Stress Inoculation Therapy is a psychotherapy method intended to help patients prepare
themselves in advance to handle stressful events successfully
I want to care more
I want to be carefree in the good way
I should describe time as particles of rain and a moving car
I should test drive a bmw

editors note:

Ah, yes! Our icons will give us the answers AND ask the questions. Logon. Be free. – mh clay

Further expositions on brutalism

featured in the poetry forum January 12, 2019  :: 0 comments

Are there people who actually like brutalism?
Of course, she says, there’s some brutalist furniture that’s very expensive.
What about the architecture though? What does it say about someone that they like it?
It’s just a taste.
What does it say about you that you don’t?

I consider the question.
She starts naming brutalist furniture manufacturers and I think of her fondly.
All those times we disagreed about cheese, and why the drywall on the ceiling hasn’t
been sanded yet.
I wonder what other deep pools she hides.
What does revolting mean?
I wonder how things can elicit such a harsh reaction in a consciousness I feel I control.
Is the appeal to pure emotion really what lies at the core of quality art if the emotion is
unfiltered anger?
Nauseating, like disgust.
How do you cope with revulsion?
Satisfying the pace of conversation she adds, find something you like in it.
Just try a little at a time.

She hands me the phone, presenting a cultivated list of sculpture.
Iron, extruded square spikes, aged bronze, stained woods.
I scroll, carefully watching for judgement during a sleet storm of annoyance.
Seeking pleasure from a desk edge to the tendon – looking for something to like.
I think about the time I slammed my finger in the door twice.
It helps to objectify them I decide.

editors note:

Brutalism is best objectified from a distance. We only have so many fingers… – mh clay

Such Is

featured in the poetry forum October 27, 2018  :: 0 comments

Ere rise the sun
Over sandy dune
wheaten skin, toasted hues
Beauty, though bleakness wait
A twitchy hand, an uncertain state
Never to find peaceful mate
Such is, On the island of hate

Ere rise the moon
Over spotlight lagoon
Darkness, curious beauty hides
On suggested urge
ripples ride
Secure comfort below, as above
Such is, on the isle of love

editors note: Whether by capricious current or needful navigation, may we land on love. – mh clay

Among the Maples

featured in the poetry forum August 25, 2018  :: 0 comments

Fall is a greedy lover
Spectacular color sown into gray washed skies
not quite fulfilling the promise of day break’s new temperance
Until suddenly winter breaks
under the repetitive taxation of light.

“I have to go. I have to find something – to feel.”
The paper she holds, white, against the cuneiform of cheap ink;
Lithe in matter’s latency against the pressure – the progression of time.
And needing to grasp for some reason,
the words she sees are not what she hears,
A taped repetition “you’re not good enough.”

Her arm falls aside;
the note held in constancy,
Her search for resonance once more

And through the luster of their glass
Sing, the finches
Passing conversation and hours in toil – in love
Plucky by the bluster
Maples and Pine,
color and texture,
fanning breeze;

She folds the paper, puts it in a drawer
Engages the scene through her solid door;
Passing into future
Energy given to craft
Among the dancing sunbeams.

editors note:

With a change of season, a change of energy; attention to Fall, not a fall. – mh clay