Looking for Trouble

featured in the poetry forum November 14, 2017  :: 0 comments

The heart wants what it wants
And the cock longs
For what it desires.

The subject is not always
The same,
Though it might
Overlap.

Great if it does,
If not, trouble,
For the heart must have
And so must the worm.

editors note:

Though the heart may not, the worm always will. – mh clay

Throw Away Lines

featured in the poetry forum September 9, 2017  :: 0 comments

There is no future for these words,
No one will mumble and moan
This poem in a thousand years.

Read it now and throw it away.
Add it to the trash heap
We’ll leave behind.

A group project
We’ve created
To outlast us all.

editors note:

Makes one wonder, will our trash outlast our apocalypse? If so, hope the aliens can read. – mh clay

To the dregs

featured in the poetry forum June 26, 2017  :: 0 comments

life is poison,
yet I must drink it.
there is no other beverage
that gets me so drunk.

editors note:

We hope to build immunity to its poison. Daily doses; drink up. – my clay

A little of this, a little of that

featured in the poetry forum April 21, 2017  :: 0 comments

Saints have their warts.
Demons hide their halos.

We’re a mixed bag,
never all of one
and none of the other,

Too much effort
to be pure
good or evil,

Don’t be surprised
by the devil’s kindness,

Or when an angel
Sets you up for a fall.

editors note:

We can’t take life personally, can we? (Say! Joseph’s got a novel out, Labor Day, available from Peasantry Press. Learn more about it here.) – mh clay

Seeking The Golden Bird

featured in the poetry forum March 19, 2016  :: 0 comments

There is what you want,
And there is what you settle for,
The bird you try to catch,
And the one that winds up
In your hands.

One may have borne you
On its back,
Across seas and summer fields
To its eyrie
In the peaks of your desire.

The other, well,
It sits there,
And maybe gives you eggs,
Or just turds,
But it is yours,
To feed and care for,

Or pluck and eat,
If you think you are
Still brave and nimble enough
To grab golden feathers
In the wind.

editors note:

In hand or bush; eggs are for eating, flying is for birds. – mh clay

For the Dust

featured in the poetry forum September 4, 2015  :: 0 comments

They buy it. They sell it. They tear it down.
Those little pieces of history
In which childhood memories are stored.
You see it go, bulldozed, imploded.
Uprooted, paved over, places
Where you played or loved or dreamed.
A piece of you goes up with the dust,
Rising clouds that will not return as rain.
You watch, saddened by progress
That leaves you farther and farther behind,
Living in a past that no longer exists.

editors note:

There are riches to be had in razing the past to the ground; no money in memory. No wonder we never learn. – mh clay

Hook, Line, and Sinker

November 5, 2014  :: 0 comments

Fishing for love
In a sea of sadness,

Bait your hook
With heart and soul,

See what tugs the line
Or swallows it whole.

Carp Day

featured in the poetry forum November 5, 2014  :: 0 comments

stream flowing
over stones,
frothing white,
river spirit
impregnating water
with oxygen.

carp and catfish
huddle at the dam
attracting foxes, raccoons,
all giving thanks to life
for enriching them
with the wonder
of movement;

chemical combustion
of sugars,
energy abundant
for the swim downstream,
the chase and kill
caught in teeth.
all feel the pressure
of the jaws closing
eventually,

but sing and swim
and run and dance
they must
for as long as they can
in the spring sun
before their turn
must come.

editors note:

Seize or be seized! It’s gonna be somebody’s day; make it yours. (Read another fish story from Joe on his page – check it out!) – mh

The corpse in the garden

featured in the poetry forum August 23, 2014  :: 0 comments

the corpse in the garden
has laid there six days
the sun burns hot
and the garden stinks

a man of clay should go out
and prod that body
with a sharp stick,
see if white worms
bubble from the skin

check for a wallet
and maybe a name
keep the cash
if there is no i.d.
assume it is god.

editors note:

What comes from letting the dead do the burying. – mh

Even Superman Gets the Blues

featured in the poetry forum October 4, 2013  :: 0 comments

My ability to save the world
is somewhat limited today.
I sit here on the bed
with my hands between my knees
staring at the costume and cape
still hanging in the closet.

Not today. Not today.
I think in bed I’ll stay.
The world can save itself.
I’ll read a tome from my bookshelf
and snuggle under covers
with a feather pillow,
and if the world is still here
tomorrow or whenever I feel better,
I will try to don that cape
and fight to protect
whatever is left.

editors note:

Accrued ambivalence clouds crusader conscience; inaction ensues. – mh