Dan Rodriguez…

featured in the poetry forum April 21, 2019  :: 0 comments

Dan Rodriguez
will be there.

The next time I read
in some dark-beautiful club

and I hear a shutter click.

Year after year catching stars

in his black and magic
silver net

the whole time silently letting
us believe
we were the show

in my mind
he never rests

like the word aperture

from the Ancient Greek

“the eye of genius”,
or in Aramaic, “the lens

of God is terrible
and wide”. Giving, I never heard him

ask for anything

the way the night
provides cover to the sun and succor
for the rest.

– Paul Koniecki

editors note:

Another fine tribute to Dan Rodriguez by our friend and local poet, Paul. – mh clay

Intensive Care Unit

featured in the poetry forum April 18, 2019  :: 0 comments

The night nurse
clad in surgical tape
dispenses antiseptic grace
and sleepwalks
through her coffee break
fighting to stay awake
in the code blue
fluorescent fog
of all those yawning beds
full of tired old dogs
in the sunshine of death.

– Stew Jorgenson

editors note:

Thanks to those who deal with us in darkness, lighting our way to a sunny rest. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum April 16, 2019  :: 0 comments

We’re closer now
Joined at the synapse
The electronic halo

Compression of space
Quickening of time
Gaining of microns
Splitting of quanta


Coming towards
Coming apart
Of sound
Of light
Of inward flow
Free market
Of outward pulse
Reality that is
More real than
You’ll ever be

Mandating acceleration
Flooding the target
Measuring the path
Showering the neurons
Until another datum
Enters the portal:

But we’ll
Reboot the system
Manufacture the solution
Mix the dopamine cocktail
Invent the savior

We’re closer now
Than we’ve ever been

– Tony Robinson

editors note:

So “close,” but can’t solve the equation for “there.” – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum April 14, 2019  :: 0 comments

Pick me up
So I can
Begin Today
This is where
I was left

Having given purpose for a day
I’m glad I did
Hope I fixed
The way I’d imagined
Since we never try to remember

You thought I’d stay down
Remain silent
You know me better than

If you hate it
Stop helping me load this gun
But ain’t it shiny?
Yeah I like shiny shit too
‘S why I like you

Pick me up
I’m not going to
You need me like I am
And I need to begin

There just may
A poem in
Here somewhere
Esoteric rubber bullets directly striking

If you don’t pick me up
I’ll have to begin

From down here

– Adriane Nero

editors note:

A tender target; shouts from the shooting gallery. Lock and load. – mh clay

Torture Chambers in the Skull

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

Why do we hound and torment each other
when every human skull has its own torture chamber?
It’s been said that humans use only 10% of the brain’s capacity,
urban myth? or thank god and amen?
there’s enough self-doubt and loathing
and indecision to last all eternity
not to mention existential despair
and unrequited angst
multiply by ten and you’d have
either nirvana or hell
your choice.

– Paul Hellweg

editors note:

Harsh the howling resonance, reverberating hell – hush it till we only hear nirvana… nirvana, yes! – mh clay

It was all a dream

featured in the poetry forum April 11, 2019  :: 0 comments

I had a dream mom didn’t find you hanging
from the banister of the stairs with a cable chord
wrapped around your neck.

They found a cure for MS and you could
walk again, and you loved seeing your
grandson Clark.

I no longer took the time we had for
granted so we started spending more
of it together, going to bars, and basketball
games to watch the Raptors play. Then
you’d tell me how much better the old
generation was; how Clyde Drexler was
underrated, how Larry Bird had the biggest
heart, and how Magic Johnson was just that—

You and mom grew old together and enjoyed
your retirement; often going on vacations
where she would make you take awkward
tourist photos which you hated, but you
returned the favor by getting drunk and
saying something inappropriate in front
of a group of strangers.

Eventually when your time came, you passed
away peacefully in your sleep and if life was fair
that could’ve happened, and I wouldn’t have a woke
from that dream into the nightmare that is reality.

– David Boski

editors note:

Maybe our dreams (the good ones) are parallel realities. Maybe we should keep dreaming, just like this. – mh clay

A Wink by a Nod

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

A morning cut short
by decisions
made in the wink of a night,
those moments when you
stopped, turned, reckoned
and celebrated a simple progress
by and about
every yen you ever aimed for
when you lay awake
with eyes wide
and out of order.

In the light of a blink
you attempt to stop
that headlong and dawdling crash
into a stunted future
where you are no longer able
to sustain growth.

But daylight makes a habit
of white-washing those
directions, and next you know
you’ve turned desire
into disdain and
all hell breaks loose.

– Charlotte Ozment

editors note:

What was clear in the night strikes fear in the light. Sometimes, the dream is better. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum April 1, 2019  :: 0 comments

I want to feel alive
like people I see sometimes,
on the street,
holding hands
because they don’t
truly know each other yet
but possibly
because they ARE the lucky ones

I want to feel rested
like people I see sometimes,
in the café,
eating their bagels with wonder
like they’ve never lost a wink of sleep
and they never drink coffee
because it gives ‘em the jitters
and they never have nightmares
because they beLIEve in the American dream

I want to be sober
like people I see sometimes
but I am cursed with crystal vision
I pass them the glasses
but they see what they want to see
and laugh all night long
They ONLY worry
when the cable goes out

– Casey Renee Kiser

editors note:

With 300 channels (add 3-4 premium) we should all feel fine. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum March 26, 2019  :: 1 comment

all up & down
5th street there are
peep shows
coffee shops
liquor stores
& fresh tattoos that glow
on the pale
february bleached flesh
of girls
& all the skinny caramel lattes
are clutched too tight
even though they are hotter than
the august pavement
& everywhere you go
along east 3rd street
the cell phones are screaming
to be released from
all of the pockets
& glove compartment coffins
while a roving pack of mimes
stalk the corner of 4th & main
thespian nightmares
in a symphony of silence
so loud
it sounds like propaganda
& all the yellow
slowly leaks
from the sun
as i sit in the café
across the street
murdering myself
one cigarette
at a time.

– Brian Fugett

editors note:

Probiotic pique from a peeking poet. – mh clay

Such Weariness

featured in the poetry forum March 24, 2019  :: 0 comments

Sometimes, this world feels bent
And spent beyond repair—
Like a dirty coin too long
In circulation,
Mauled by money’s mad & vicious
Songs of consumption.
Ambition is for the young—
But life isn’t a ladder:
It’s a seduction…
A romance of matter & spirit.
What we adore is what we become:
For God’s sake, I can hardly bear it.

– Daniel Klawitter

editors note:

It’s our drive, not tiny, to keep life shiny. – mh clay