The Boy from Bartlesville

featured in the poetry forum July 27, 2018  :: 0 comments

prophets were born and raised here
their bones in the pipeline of the past
when each man was his own tribe

when the lenape cried out
in the sunlight
for mother’s milk

after the jug of the spirit
had gone empty

when the boy from bartlesville
watched young girls dance
just outside his window

pacing the ward floor
waiting for muhammad
to seek his advice

when invisible prairies still offered
the possibility of young love

when the cosmos was powered
by white bread & gasoline

when wind ripped through these fields
like the last gust of breath from the dead

when nothing sacred
could be held down
by a stone.

editors note:

When what was, isn’t now; it takes a true tribesman to figure it out. – mh clay

The Only Thing

featured in the poetry forum January 13, 2018  :: 0 comments

for Victor Clevenger and Everette Maddox

written down
on the bathroom wall
of the maple leaf bar

is

tell my mother i love her

somewhere the marrow
of our speech
is always
faint praise

& we are all veterans
of some invisible war

but we still need these memories
& plenty of paper towels
to wash our hands.

editors note:

Soap for the soul – wash up, now. (We welcome John to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay

The Midwestern Guide to Time Travel

featured in the poetry forum September 4, 2017  :: 0 comments

for Mark Shaffer

remember to dance in a 10 ft steel cage
one for every year of your life

to dream of a future
filled with flying cars
and international date lines
that seem as limitless
as homespun wisdom

somewhere a little voice
tells you to drown a mermaid
in 39 ft of water or a hill of dirt

it sings for blood
as the sun
touches your skin.

editors note:

Casualties; your trail of crumbs to mark the way. – mh clay

Moon Over Eufaula, Oklahoma

featured in the poetry forum May 4, 2017  :: 0 comments

for Victor Clevenger

just south of muskogee
dumpster cats guard crumbling pyramids
& discarded bbq grills
in the moonlight

the creek nation girls still dance
in honor of their own virginity
covered in dust
& humble bones
yelling free bird lives

free bird lives

here everyone is loyal
& your breath just hangs there
as heavy as a cloud

& apartments are shaped
like tombstones

& the outline of a girl’s hips
in the shadow of a lonely gas station
can still transport you back
to a better time.

editors note:

free bird lives, yes! – mh clay