The Sweaters Surrounding My Incongruence Die

featured in the poetry forum November 7, 2017  :: 0 comments

I’ve not felt much at home. It’s not the family.
They’re great. In fact, there are small elephant figures
we keep in the house. Some are brass,
with wavy colorful lines and wavy trunks.
I have one wooden elephant.
It’s not afraid of mice the way some are,
so I’d rather not call it an elephant.

I am myself not usually afraid of mice,
which is to say I am unusually afraid.
It’s been far too long.

I’d prefer if I grew over time less so,
but I do not think this a realistic trajectory.
That makes me sad.
Sometimes, when sad, I think of elephants,
and the sun’s gone already for a blue swim into the horizon,
a blue-grey touch like elephants over everything.

editors note: They are everywhere; reminders of what we can never forget. - mh clay

Magnifying Glass Plus Ant

featured in the poetry forum April 19, 2017  :: 0 comments

The only place open
at this hour in the century: Kohls,

with clothing hung
in rows of full, unoccupied people.

A rabbit-like loneliness
outruns the bike I ride to my insides.

Man who throws
a glare from his eyeglasses
sifts through me:

I am a fake.

editors note: It is a struggle to find relevance in consumer-land. Best to dodge the glass. (We welcome Daniel to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) - mh clay

Feel Me?

featured in the poetry forum December 9, 2016  :: 0 comments

The falafel joint jets out on the block,
like a marked card.
This guy, with his tie dyed attitude,
struts to the joint,
meets eyes with another guy
he hasn’t seen lately.

“How you been?” Other Guy asks.
“Water in my ears. What’d you say?”
“What kind of water?”

They clasp each other’s hands
by the finger joints
and Tie Dye, with the joint problems,
winces as they pull in, to bump
shoulders, in a semi-orbit,
like two galaxies who’ve gotten too close.

Tie Dye shakes the city out his ears,
the way physical contact is a lubricant
to undo isolation crusting over itself,

the way you say “let’s blow this joint,”
to your life, all of it, out his ears.
He looks up and explains the river
flooding his canal:

“Know how the ocean glows sometimes,
’cause all the bioluminescent algae,
how they try to touch,
but glow instead?”

editors note: At our dysfunctional best, sometimes we glow. - mh clay

Fit Me In

featured in the poetry forum September 12, 2016  :: 0 comments

The leftover brownie’s
pretty good,
‘cept I taste the styrofoam
I boxed it in.

Now I understand
the batch of people
licking trees in the park.

I taste foam
on my thoughts, is that
normal? That can’t be normal.

Get me out of here.
Don’t think I can’t
see the synaptic
packing peanuts
jetting out your window,

lodging your air
with themselves.

I woke up today
to the burglar alarm.
First place I checked was
my chest.

editors note: Foam to pack your china or your heart; resistant to shock, but not theft. - mh clay