the old lights

featured in the poetry forum September 29, 2018  :: 0 comments

They came from all the boat docks, by the water that grew smaller each day
As it conceded to this particular East Texas July heat
We grew stronger until the fall
Walking barefoot painfully on hot asphalt and sticker-filled yards and sharp gravel

It was only at night they would come, when we turned on the light
We didn’t know then what it was we were doing
Gathering all those small creatures like the moon, they know about the moon
Light, not like our light
Closer than a million years of evolution told them it would be

The old tennis court, we turned on the lights
Old lights, taking a long time to be light
Soon an adult would come and tell us to get outta there, to turn them off

They would not think about the thousands of tiny fragile carcasses, at our feet
All the mayflies from by the lake
Living their entire life in one day, they had flown to us
Most nights
It was normal to not see them
Until their ritual of death

I would think about a superior being, seeing me for the first time as I died
Seeing my life only then
As one day, so short
Wondering how much of the universe was never understood, to me
I knew the mayflies were glad to have lived
I was glad too, to have lived so long already
If I was a mayfly it would have been 8am-ish of my life then, or sometime in the early
Not very long after I was born
I knew these things

Some days are much longer than others, to the mayfly

editors note: In our larval stage we are more adept at decipherment. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum August 18, 2017  :: 0 comments

Our bear and child of bear
Waking us
A fourth time
I woke up and got out of the stained sheets, mattress
Soft and bitter, rind of memory
From here to where there was water

Our wolf knew all the things we thought
Not to talk about that day
Eye here and here
With us waking, naked and wondering
Where we left
Everything we knew we knew last night
Or two nights ago or whenever
It was, we decided to cut through the night
Lights lingering in a timeless white lie

Believing over and over
Yesterday–Last year
That one night in January 2013
That spring when I could do anything I wanted and not die
Like those dreams we both had
To lie about to remember

Like those concrete cows under the tree, empty
Trinity River basin in the dry winter heat
Of Dallas’s concrete asshole still steaming
From last summer and last year and that one time
Electricity sprang from the cables above us and Saunter, black
Angel, in a dark dark moment
We collided with
Each other and all
The things and things and things
That came after the sparks
All ours to destroy
Ourselves with, together as we remembered
Each other for the first time again
And again and again
We ran like the children of bears and of old wolves

editors note:

All our unknown aspirations, howled and growled in animal intent. (Read another from Cheyenne on his page; a companion to this one, an age-old adage from when were young. Check it out!) – mh clay


August 18, 2017  :: 0 comments

No time and no order and no body and no eyes
With which to understand the self, perfect
Psychopaths, forgiven because we were closest
To God, we did not look
Back towards the water where we came from, we will go back
When we tire of of blood and tattoos and the smell, Sharpies making notes of everything
Our old burning eyes fear about the future, a feeling
We do not reconcile by talking to each other, only feeling things
We cannot explain, the way we move through these nights
Like two pieces of water together, in an orbit
That we never thought about, or any of these things
When we were children, destined to collide and explode slower than a Phantom bullet camera can see

In this vacuum of space, fire
Voice and blood can never exist together

editors note:

Another start from the end. – mh clay


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