I’m a young lover

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

I’ll fill up your trashcan with condoms
I’ll be on top or on bottom
I’m more or less a whore
But I can be all yours
For one lump sum
I can hump you
Anytime you want
But you have to listen
When I explain the world
In extended metaphors
And you’re not allowed
To make it weird
When I sing loudly
In the car
If you tell me it’s all right
When growing up
Keeps me awake at night
Then tomorrow we can
Start our own sunrise
And grow between
Each moon
until we die
Or bloom

editors note:

Fragile fledgling flowers, be not bereft, but betrothed. Bloom! Yes! Bloom! – mh

Hats on Shoulders, Teeth in the Telephone

featured in the poetry forum June 6, 2013  :: 0 comments

I feel
a bit like a
coat rack.
Specifically the
metal hook
beside the
hanging hats.
Holding the warmth
of the room
until it’s cold enough
to come back.
I feel
a bit like a
telephone pole.
With thick wire
straddled across
my shoulders.
Holding everyone’s conversation
outside of both
sending and receiving.
I feel
a bit like a
yellow tooth.
A film of moss
alone
but a smile
in a group.
Held in place by
healthy gums
doomed to rot
since it began.

editors note:

An outsider’s anthem, unheard and uncovered. Shhhhh, brrrrrrrr!– mh

The Sky Looked Like Cotton Candy

March 26, 2013  :: 0 comments

The light turned green and I pressed softly on the accelerator. The beginnings of a post-rainstorm sunset sat painted the sky above the streets we’ve both driven on for years. The only difference between the nights in this town is the way the sun decides to disappear. He turned to me. “My mom’s really been on me to spend more …

eat lunch over black fabric

featured in the poetry forum January 6, 2013  :: 0 comments

I sometimes think in thoughts given away
Of someone with something much better to say
I sometimes think in prayers never heard
Of someone who would have easily never occurred
I sometimes think in dreams alive and dead
Of someone who choked on all the wished he had saids
And I sometimes think in truth and lies
Of someone with every reason but a reason why
I’m a hundred million different people all at once
But all these different people still eat the same lunch
All of us are stars at night
Shining bright and white
But shining old light
I sometimes think we’re holes in the same black fabric
That’s draped over the sun when the days are over.

editors note:

We all rehash the stories told in those pinprick lights; so old to sky, so new to us. – mh