March 2, 2015  :: 0 comments

Words have no meaning

Words have no meaning
Words have no meaning
Words have no
Words have no meaning
I have to
I have to understand
I have to
I neeeeed to understand
Words have to
Words have

Today is Thanksgiving
Tomorrow you will die

I’ve got cannonball
I’ve got Grizzly


March 2, 2015  :: 0 comments

Children of the moon

Linking together

Children of the dragon

The same

Separated by time and space and jet lag

Brought together by irony

Happy because we are free

Happy because
We are strong

The same
Happy because
We are the same


featured in the poetry forum March 2, 2015  :: 0 comments

Texas Wilderness
Dead against all the towns between Waco and our sacred reservoir
Never thought to teach our children all the feelings
Covered like guilt in the unexpected snow of 2014
Visions of blood against the subtle warmth of winter
Small amounts of red against
A dark universe of white matter
White like God
And sin

I am man in the universe of my being
Forbidden from the source
Bound to the gravity
Of slaves
Of the punishable
Deserving of this terror and unable to
Dream about mother and womb and secrets

Here I am

editors note:

Disconnected, daunted wake-dreamer, solitary sleeper… all. (Read more of Cheyenne’s madness on his page; a celebrated sameness and a wasted word land – check’em out.) – mh


December 14, 2014  :: 0 comments

Clouds waft over our sex bodies
Tight canvas shorts cut from pants that were tight
A small shirt that’s lasted years
Short sleeves
A certain easiness with words
Proper social protocol

We do not look in mirrors but we see the way we look
In office building reflections

Draw the stretched analogy from something else that means
Something to us

At 8:15pm I walked the dogs
At 9:30 I went to meet Carlson at the trailer
Two gin and sodas, two burgers to-go, two baggies
An ATM machine

A burger in the face of Mother Mary
No one eats before the virgin
No one thinks of any other woman for a month
No one orders mayonnaise until the rapture


December 14, 2014  :: 0 comments

Oh happy human
Why does freedom taste like
Gun metal scraping against concrete daydreams
Less passionate fools

Grinding iron against the history of simple men
Blood from gums in the morning
and swords

At dusk simple men cry

Iron against cold Gods and dew on blades of grass

Love of story
Any story

Please god help me
Any story

We know this is not real
We practice drug meditation
Heavy metal sacrifice

So many writers that we love
Dead like robots

Mothers that we love
Undying robot sacrifice

We walk into oblivion like honorable men
Kill and die

Kill and die
We wake up and kill and die
We fight for little things not understood

We kill nothing
And die into nothing
Thinking harder because we were warned
Ahead of time
A plotless story full of heroes
Death without antithesis

Death ritual
Kill ritual
Blood sacrifice


featured in the poetry forum December 14, 2014  :: 0 comments

One snake sleeps in the forest, by the lake
The other in my bed

One snake knows everything but cannot move
The other knows how to read newspapers

One snake wonders how the moon will shatter
Across our desert
Across our reservoir
An implied destiny followed like a june bug toward the porch light

The cactus wonders
How long it will have to hold the water

Is it really suffering
If pain is forgotten
Or remembered differently

Or loved

When it is loved
The snakes are neon

Land beyond the carnivorous acid burn of Austin
Slither across America
And Eurasia and Ireland and Holland

There will be a bear who will come and break the ice shelf

There is a june bug who will look for light

There is sand in the engine

editors note:

Snake as noun, adjectivally colored. Snake as verb, our winding path in a motionless machine. – mh


October 4, 2014  :: 0 comments

Dead across our sovereign countries
Across Great Plains
A dust bowl of consciousness
Everything we mistakenly thought was ours
Dead soldiers of a forgotten foreign war
Gravestones and credit cards
Broken legs and manicures

A mortgage that confuses human pleasure
A sex machine that cries
Dirty like wind and virgins

And Barton Springs

Hello lady
Dead like us
Slave like us

Us, You, Everything
Exploding through E. 6th St. as God’s foolish bastards
Like toys or tarot cards
Sure of the future
Snake breath and sin
Death a thousand times


October 4, 2014  :: 0 comments

It’s 1am in Dallas
Most of the Lakewood area
And some of Lower Greenville
Are walking directly towards Oak Cliff
Across the Jefferson Bridge
Against one-way traffic
Looking to hook-up with the drag queen social
In the arts district down the street

Most likely its coke they’re after or maybe speed

From my window I’ll see them coming
And will snipe them down
I’ll use darts loaded with orgy inducing narcotics
Top secret government-issue super drugs
Designed for a mutant urban suburbatronic super-breed of American
Children of the hollow river basin

An Albertson’s parking lot orgy
Will surely break-out
The overstaffed men will turn to light poles
Traffic cones will be passed around as chasers
Shopping carts will be filled with the dead and the mostly dead
A ground beef fountain will be erected
Lubricated with worcestershire sauce

It will be a very weird scene
Will they notice
The meat is not cooked?


October 4, 2014  :: 0 comments

You are the sacred temple of humanity
Born to suffer
Strong enough to plow fields of clay and stone and fear

Your fear
Our fear, all of our fear
The world’s fear dark at night and invisible in moonlight
Hidden eyes around a fire, around a pole
Around and around
Fire and a winter pole
Cold because we know it as an old god of the playground
King of the tetherball and black magic master at no rules four-square
Cold beacon
Hibernation and exaggerated death ritual and sleep and morphine and skin

You are the alchemist
You are able to make the fields holy like our sacred reservoir
The flood plain of East Texas vibrates
Monks and rivers and trees pushing through eyes
Your eyes on the island and in sky and perfect

Eyes of sacred men and great writers
Drunks and workers and painters and photoshop artists
And weed dealers

There are robots and there are men who forget
And there are men who die a thousand times forever in small moments every night during summer like mayflies in scattered lights
Like the robot alchemist

To create, to die, to die again


featured in the poetry forum October 4, 2014  :: 0 comments

As Courtney lies sleeping on the couch beside me
Sleeping – trying to be sleeping
I dream, typing, dream
She watches the details
Wondering how far away Dallas is now

There, the Trinity River knows things that most people don’t think about
Ghost cows chatter
Trinity dries
Carries many secrets it forgets
And forgets to tell

It has smelly water

My phone vibrates
Too dangerous to answer
I set it on the table
Next to the weed

Something misunderstood
It means too much to me
Is there a way to undo what I’ve said
Perhaps a drug
Perhaps a combination of drugs

editors note:

Synaptic replay, looping, lingering; our glaring blunder, irretrievableā€¦along with sleep. – mh