Featured Poems


by on January 16, 2021 :: 0 comments

This existence is
a cave
caged in unknowing.

My consciousness
and yours- two

figuring out
the aesthetics
of everythingness.

You rub
your words
against mine,

a fire
is borne
out of stone.

editors note:

And, thusly, we rock on… (We welcome Nikita to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of her madness on her new page – check it out.) – mh clay

Stelliferous Heavens

by on January 15, 2021 :: 0 comments

I’d glide away into the cosmic flow
in quiet of the canopy of night
to leave the tumult of the world below
with wishes having wings to guide my flight.

In quiet of the canopy of night
the stellar orbs cast light in shining beams.
With wishes having wings to guide my flight
their faces seem a universe of dreams.

The stellar orbs cast light in shining beams
as days recede with final au revoirs.
Their faces seem a universe of dreams
in skies awash with myriads of stars.

As days recede with final au revoirs,
to leave the tumult of the world below
in skies awash with myriads of stars
I’d glide away into the cosmic flow.

editors note:

Take us away, sweet glide. – mh clay

Fair Game

by on January 14, 2021 :: 0 comments

i can’t remember how old i was when i realized
that this body does not belong to me
perhaps it is a trophy, hung on the wall
my bones are stuck between the teeth of
full-bellied hunters and my blood is
a satisfying aftertaste stained at the corners
of lips that are not mine

this body is not mine
this body belongs to the night
a man set a jack and coke in front of me and
stood there until i sipped it
this body belongs to the sting of
that liquor and the way it felt like
betraying everything within me that is feminist

this body is the kill
born to be hunted for sport
the kind of thing that is cut up for desirable parts
marked fair game as soon as i sipped that drink
or got in that car or wore that dress or
read those poems about rape culture

this body belongs to the night i realized
it feels the same way every time
you will want to stick your fingers down your throat and
hollow out the part of you that feels like it is made of sin and wrongdoing
purge yourself of everything that put you in
the hunter’s crosshairs and
turn the tables

editors note:

No season, no license; respect, instead. – mh clay


by on January 13, 2021 :: 0 comments

We never had
the rules
of monogamy.
We never
had anybody’s
I guess that
made us special,
living outside
the boundaries
of what everybody
But I guess it’s
a gut check
when you start
thinking you’re
the exception.
One minute,
you’re doing
before you cum
to relax
the next minute
you’re in an
empty apartment
huffing that
nail polish shit
by yourself.
Just remember,
the best stories
are always true.
I don’t know
why there
was you-
but thank you
for changing me.

editors note:

Gain the foresight to have hindsight. Thanks for the change. – mh clay

The Curse of Heroes

by on January 12, 2021 :: 0 comments

I know you
you’ve been seen around these parts before
son of Apollo or Zeus you’re turned-out
tumbling down from that blue gold vault
your celestine eyes blond flecks glinting they
flash like a coquette’s fan.

You are the stuff of odysseys and agonies
riven in quarters from that casting out
you are wounded and watched and wanted and legends
are the quarry of your ambition to prove your exile
unjust this makes you dangerous a lionized hazard
your vulnerability a siren’s come hither a lure and you
lorn and cocked you will surely shipwreck
gorgeously spent on this tragedy.

editors note:

Pedestals are half price this year. Better invest in mirrors, instead. – mh clay

Mask of the Restless Crowd

by on January 11, 2021 :: 0 comments

The restless crowd
Wearing the cloth of change

Infestation of our own doing

Friendship with fury
The tragedy of blame

Cough stains
A haunting hope

But no one free

Most in a slow fit

Doing our time
Until done

When the rains come
Washing it all away

In floods and fire.

editors note:

Playing on our news feeds now. – mh clay


by on January 10, 2021 :: 0 comments

My neighbor is on his ladder,
Taking down the Christmas lights;
His wife has gone inside to rest,
Just home from her chemo.
I start to say something like
Well, time to pack ’em up
For another year

But decide not to.

editors note:

The same old thing is not always. – mh clay