featured in the poetry forum August 22, 2018  :: 0 comments

the sky looks down through
a wounded eye

clouds like broken hands
scattering the dust

I listen to recognize the voice
of rain

moon in early morning
an empty fire that feeds us

the day discovered to be
where we left it.

editors note: Eye to eye; we strive to stay in place when being is the thing. - mh clay


featured in the poetry forum June 22, 2018  :: 0 comments

we pinch with our eyes
the sight of the long horizon
spilling out this glow
to all sides of us
and the clouds move in tantrums
like snakes
like the tails of cats
thrashing in slow motion
and our motion slows
into this desert of ourselves
we find only mirages where
we should have been
we do not drink even when
all we know is thirst.

editors note: Mirage or mirror, this sip of existence is hard to swallow. - mh clay


featured in the poetry forum May 22, 2017  :: 0 comments

he might just be that man
sinking into the sidewalk
as you walk by he
smiles at you but
continues downward
to that place we call
and he is glad to
be seen in his going
to be recognized in
this moment as
a form of finality
a book closed on
a shelf no one will need
to dust again.

editors note: He might be we are him and all vanish in time, so... It's nice to be noticed. (We welcome Mark to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) - mh clay


featured in the poetry forum March 23, 2017  :: 0 comments

the silence that is missing will
come back to us
the womb we were unaware of
with its embracing cave of stillness
only the drum of heartbeat off
through the distance
through a moving galaxy of blood
river upon river
before the lungs invented air
we knew this silence so different
from the lack of sound
we knew nothing of sound
only this silence surrounded
by the hearing of ears not yet
connected to thought
the first born birth of silence
felt through the skin this silence
that is missing will come back
when it chooses
to quiet what remains of us.

editors note: It's all womb; from silence to silence. - mh clay


featured in the poetry forum July 5, 2015  :: 3 comments

young boy with pellet gun
aiming at anything moving

a tree swallow fluttering near its
nest hole far up the birch tree

an innocent pulling of trigger
a dead-on kill
and then the swallow’s mate
out the nest hole and
shrieking her mourning
across the thinned air

flustered and uncertain
the boy carefully aims and
shoots again putting down
the mate

trudging home feeling life moving
backwards like lost footsteps
hoarding the shame of his
accumulated future all
at once.

editors note: Let regrets over triggers pulled influence future pointing of the gun. Peace, first! - mh clay