featured in the poetry forum September 17, 2016  :: 0 comments

From a lecture given in Biology 6040, “Animal Behavior,” East Carolina University, 2008

With limited intelligence and absolutely no knowledge of Biophilia
But tons of testosterone, money and privilege,
They kill our big-eyed deep water Marlin as a gaggle of local dock Creeps
Give them cheers and big bucks to do so.

None of the high testosterone Yuppies has a bloody clue
About top-predator biology, anthropocentricity or exploitation.
Some might call it the “Tragedy of the Commons.”
What if the big fish are cognitive and have feelings?

What about their being hoisted up to cheers and fist pumps,
Their last big-eyed vision being that of their upside down “high T” murderers?
What about those gut hooked and released
To swim in painful circles for the sharks to plunder?
My wife, saddened by the spectacle,
Asks if they clean and eat the “poor big fish”.
I tell her the rule of my Mississippi grandfather:
“If you kill it, Boy, then you shall eat it,” which they blissfully ignore.

I respond further by saying that the 5 hundred pound Marlins are doomed to the wall,
Stuffed, mounted and once again staring down
At those who placed them there;
Their tissue, viscera and sinew most likely going to cats, blue crabs and incinerators.

They call this type of exploitation “Ecotourism;”
Say it’s good for the economy.
They embrace the pontifications of Aristotle and Saint Augustine
And all that “humans are on top the evolutionary shit pile scala naturae Judeo-Christian nonsense.”

None have read anything about biodiversity,
Pelagic predation,
Human etiologies to the crises in the world’s oceans,
And, I am absolutely positive, nothing on the cognitive ethology of fishes.

So what do you Nawth Kackalacky students think about this Outer Banks anthropocentric outrage?
“I’ll tell you what I think.”
And what is that, Ms. Midjette?
“Dr. Daniel, you should be fired for lecturing like this!”

editors note:

Used to be it was just fishing. Now, every move mangles something else. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum June 5, 2016  :: 0 comments

“A male raccoon, Procyon lotor,
has a curved bony strut
in his penis.”

The Professor then shows
this interesting structure
to his anatomy students,

while explaining the structure’s
scientific names:
os penis and baculum.

He continues the lecture
by adding some good old boy
southern vernacular:

“Texas toothpick,”
“pecker bone;”
“mountain man toothpick.”

An older non-trad lady comments:
“Too bad about certain
other male species”.

He places his raccoon penis strut
back with his osteological collection;
comments, “I know what you mean.”

editors note:

If we know, let it be rationally vs. empirically. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum January 15, 2016  :: 0 comments

She’s been gone
For some time-
Long enough to know
I miss her.

Complaining about her absence
Doesn’t get me anywhere-
A “professional”,
Her career “everything”.

Only one thing to do…
I don’t miss her
As much as I did 10 minutes ago.

editors note:

Oh, to be able to turn that knob on demand. Where…? – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum August 21, 2015  :: 0 comments

Be that as it may
And that being said
At the end of the day
We must all be led
Down the long winding road
Adding to our heavy load
By kicking the linguistic toad
Down a hackneyed mode
Or having the price to pay
For another banal cliché
As the moronic
Call everything iconic.

editors note:

Can’t say it better, “the moronic call everything iconic.” Yes! Thanks, Hal! (Chow down on another of Hal’s mad missives on his page – check it out.) – mh clay


August 20, 2015  :: 0 comments

Student: What’s for breakfast?
Server: Oatmeal and hands?
Student: What kind of hands?
Server: Little hairy carnivore hands?
Student: One bowl please.
Server: With or without hands?
Student: Hold the hands.

Seattle rain

featured in the poetry forum March 12, 2015  :: 0 comments

finds him once again seeking shelter
down at the UW Fisheries Research Center
in a 6′ x 4′ rectangular wooden crate,
once used for salmon research.

He loves the rain punctuating the box’s top
as do the Iowa man and his dogs
in the “Box Motel” next to his,
the dogs anticipating their beer poached fish.

Some might assume them all sad…
but one shouldn’t make fallacious attributions
that silent men and dogs in boxes
are necessarily sad…

not yet and maybe never.

editors note:

Refuge from rain; be it box or castle, there’s no (dry) place like home. – mh

Pink Toenails

featured in the poetry forum October 25, 2014  :: 0 comments

When vanity became
The powder to her nose,

Jealousy honed
The thorns of his rose.

Love and hate
Were claws of their hammer,

Until he lost control
And landed in the slammer.

editors note:

Obsessed to be her only nailer; he hammered too far, then met the jailer. – mh


featured in the poetry forum April 13, 2014  :: 0 comments

Talkin’ to me Mutha Fucka?
Yes, do you have the time?
3:30, Mutha Fucka.
3:30, it’s got to be later than that?
Ok Mutha Fucka, 9:30!

editors note:

You’re only as late as you need to be, mutha… – mh

“Gotta Hand It To You, Prof”

featured in the poetry forum September 13, 2013  :: 0 comments

Russell thinks there is no neurological difference
Between complete sexual satisfaction
With a beautiful woman
And masturbating while thinking of her,
Or even wet dreaming about her before dawn.

Russell is a sophomore and he is wrong.
I tell him he will soon realize,
Right in the middle of his beautiful dream
And/or his jerking right hand,
That both are just that.

editors note:

Yeah! And one o’ them will make you go blind (unless you eat cornflakes), so pay attention… – mh

Why Is This?

featured in the poetry forum April 17, 2013  :: 0 comments

Like a bolt
Out of wherever
Peace of mind
Comes upon him.

He wonders why?
Is this it?
He can’t understand
Peace’s fleeting appearance.

Maybe watching ducks
Fly the swamp;
Maybe it’s Jupiter
Beside the moon?

Maybe it’s because
He can’t explain
Why it happens
That it does.

And that pisses
Him off and
There goes peace
Out the window.

For AH

editors note:

Tell me the sound of one hand clapping and I’ll smack you for interrupting my moment of zen. Thanks, Hal! Now I lost it, too. – mh