Featured Poems

Simply Said

by on July 19, 2018 :: 0 comments

I don’t know how I do it
I am able to walk and talk
and see Jane run
while also chewing gum
and then I hum
the national anthem
to the heartbeat
of my own drum
you know the one…
that keeps me
above ground
yet still under
the wonder
of the sun…
I am that guy
with his dog
grappling with a past
and a shoe lace
in a knot
that cannot
be undone

editors note:

Before loafers with tassels; tangle. – mh clay

The Night The Incredible Hulk Got Stoned

by on July 18, 2018 :: 0 comments

(For Dan and Margret)

Margret’s laugh is musical
profound as space. four smoke
halos echo in the six
by nine bathroom
if there is any space left
we laugh it full, the
Incredible Hulk traces
laser beam cherry
hand over hand
adults hide from
adulthood in a basement
necks giraffe up to
blow smoke into the hole
in the ceiling that may be
a vent that takes
joy out into the night
there no one knows
the true story of country
music or how to live
your life shambling
beautiful, but we can dream
before the spark is gone
before the air freshener comes
the laughter dissolves
if you’re out there Bruce Banner
you can be sure we left no trace

– Jason Baldinger

editors note:

For all of us, this trace; smoke blow, through the hole, laughter full. Yes! – mh clay

Côte D’Azur

by on July 17, 2018 :: 0 comments

Your heart is aging
Rum in a barrel
Fit for Kings.
Quench my thirst
With dances on
The cobbled
Streets and sand.
Fill my cup with
Your breathing
Tide, and bring
Your tipping
Heart against my
Gentle lips.

– Rachael N. Sanders

editors note:

You gotta go somewhere, risk something (your heart), to drink this vintage. – mh clay

Christmas

by on July 16, 2018 :: 0 comments

When I open my eyes
I see glitter exploding in shards
And I hear gran’s voice telling me
I’ll never be able to get it out of my clothes
When I shake my head a little
To make sure I’m still here
The glitter explodes out of my hair
To mine and everyone else’s astonishment
And suddenly it’s like Christmas
And people are gleefully throwing
Fistfuls of this stuff up in the air
And sparkly glass shards bloom
Out of nowhere, they adorn our surroundings
And then I see gran
She’s standing across the room, smiling at me

– Cherie Foo

editors note:

It’s how you play, makes holiday. Grab that glitter and go! – mh clay

DESIGN

by on July 15, 2018 :: 0 comments

When he whispers incantations
Across the ceremonial pit
In late winter
The last snow-drift orbits
The tree tops
Like smoke
On a morning stroll
Headed towards
Infinity’s skylight.

Praise abounds. The sun soars.
Raven gives
A jocular
Caw matched only
By the smiling Elder
Who has
My father’s eyes and more.

With hands wide open – we
Spread the wealth.

editors note:

Add double the bubble to your toil, no trouble. Magic as money to spend on you. – mh clay

Mona in Amerika #2

by on July 14, 2018 :: 0 comments

She’s thinking of meeting
the man in the yellow hat
in tight cut-office denims and a butterfly tank top
she needs a job
enter: Hamburger Joe’s
nearly a trillion served
deep fried burgers, slaw-fries, bacon topped ice-cream
at lightning speed
a stupid hat, $40 uniform fee
must be available: days, nights, weekends, holidays
7 days a week
expect between nine and twenty-four hours
starting pay 25 cents above minimum
it’s within walking distance
saves on bus fare
allows for minor contemplation
on the receding homeland and Sisyphus boulder
mom’s at the axis of it all
which is really the cross roads of delayed death
or immediate death
walking in front of a bus as factory doors close
a dollar over minimum, cashiering at the mart
a circus of value and conflicting time changes
Mona fingering Baltic curls, gazes at her younger sister
back from daycare, sores on her mouth
still hungry but refusing to eat
macaroni hotdog, sloppy joe sauce surprise
call it a “Tidy Joe” on a bun
in her uniform before work
tighter pants for job security
appease the manager with wolfish eyes
light on make-up
so as not to signify
instant give-away
Mona sighs and asks “is this Amerika?”

editors note:

Three squares rounded down to one (or none); still groping for the special prize, hidden in that happy meal. – mh clay

Eighteen

by on July 13, 2018 :: 0 comments

The government doesn’t listen to you until you turn eighteen.
Because until then, you are just a teenager.
A lazy, entitled teenager who’s on their phone too much and should have a summer job.
The government doesn’t listen to you until you turn eighteen.
Until then you are just a teenager.
A teenager who sits on the floor of a dark classroom
Next to the body of your best friend.
And you scream and scream out to a world that will never hear your voice.
A world that is too loud to hear your voice
Too loud with its own partisanship and hatred
A world that will never be quiet enough to listen to a last breath as it escapes the body of a fourteen year old.
The government doesn’t listen to you until you turn eighteen.
Because until then you are just a teenager
A lazy, entitled teenager who’s on their phone too much
Little do they know, you are on your phone to watch a list of casualties climb
Hoping to God you will never recognize a name.
The government doesn’t listen to you until you turn eighteen
Because until then you are just a teenager
And the adults in your life will decide what is right for you
And to speak out against it makes you lazy and entitled
I ask them now, have you witnessed the horrors that we have?
Can you really tell us what is right?
I ask the government now, do you hear us?
Do you hear us hiding in the back corner of our classrooms?
Do you hear us reading the eulogy at too many funerals, for too many friends?
I ask the government, now do you hear us?
Because if a gun fires inside a classroom, and there’s no politician there to hear it, it will always make a sound.

– Lillie Davidson

editors note:

“It’s more complicated than your young minds can comprehend,” we say (all the while hoping they will just get back to their snap chats). – mh clay