All rooms

featured in the poetry forum April 15, 2015  :: 0 comments

All rooms weave a lodging memory from a chandelier, leaking little flowers from the mini-fridge, the personal fan, Anne’s lace, that doggy through the clouds, her stippled brush strokes of aura follow her shapes through the dining room flowers –

Each Disease comes with its own vacuum free of charge, lived in, dirty with words. We hoped (from our posture in the white throne) these might linger, ones that won’t, replaced by the morning curtains, the soft white of her shape, caressed through the window, a painting behind dodge dreams, touched up with the rising hills, heifers and bulls –

editors note:

Home as landscape. Disease as lover, animal in the clouds. – mh clay

Y ( O ) LK R ( A ) M

featured in the poetry forum February 3, 2014  :: 0 comments

Losing grasp over a few decades of genetic sky sense, fertilizers
finger ropes support ten place Von shaped lie big
melting pillowcase
using jelly fish salt green and German shoreline — game
eatable, rub-ix cube Tetris in a
coconut trembling atmosphere — hinges
to thickness and folding with
Island — stain-able mirror
on sunset, drunk prepared on these
colors a fur history.

editors note:

This “Von” must be shaped like pie, cuz something about this poem makes me hungry (no lie). – mh

Harold and the Purple Crayon

featured in the poetry forum February 15, 2013  :: 0 comments

One day
I cried a terrible magnifying glass
and appeared in the Hemlock tree

a little mess,
tiny horns and mummy hats.
The front yard frowned,

Quiet sky,
candle messages on magazine,
wrapping paper houses everywhere.

editors note:

Front yard musings fuse occipital convolutions into daytime death dream dances. Blow out those candles and sleep. (With this poem, Zachary joins our congregation of Contributing Poets. See more of his work on his new page.) – mh

Radio Molar Signal #1.3

featured in the poetry forum December 11, 2012  :: 0 comments

Cliff upset with needles walking running finger prints –
those thin lights, driven hallowed, blackberry cloud mother floating
around in the sky.

A segmented time piece of rooms hanging to vultures on string, to the
sun, silently to our father, for umbrellas. Often times raining hand
tools, hammers, saw blades, screw guns into landings, hung nicely now
in the shed, overgrown.

editors note:

The pricks and piffles of our precarious lives are judged from on high by the tools of our deconstruction… or, maybe it’s just our putting off overgrown urgencies to clean up the yard, rake last leaves before first snow. – mh

Paper Confetti Birds

featured in the poetry forum October 8, 2012  :: 0 comments

The concepts of an eating station
were emerging
Two-tone vile segment
inching along the alabaster
weekends, merged with birds to men.

The chair leaks out of my hand
I am an orphan sail in this cathedral
of lights –
whispers are the language of these
rooms.

A girl once watched me enter
from shadows.
Her pastel Rosemary, her scrutiny,
stuck into the wood of the table

her aluminum body, razor sharp
against the clocks that I had
brought with me

Paper confetti birds lighting
the room.

editors note:

Sharp scrutiny for dull time. Feed these birds and risk starvation. – mh