Featured Poems

To An Artificial Plant

by on October 23, 2018 :: 0 comments

Look at you
as I do
a replica of something true
completely fake
of polymer and wire
and yet
from every angle
in our living room
you look to be a
living bloom
what’s it like
to be a fraud?
Or is it natural for you
To pull off this skit
And con us all that
you’re legit?
In spite of all your artifice
the strain within must be intense
to hold this pose
this civil stance
while deep down
you quake
lest we see
you’re just a facsimile
we could learn a thing or three
watching you
your quiet guile
sitting in a plastic pot
pretending to be what you’re not
smiling your synthetic smile

editors note: Questions real from what is fake from who can tell who’s on the take. (We welcome Paul to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay

The Interstellar Kingdom

by on October 22, 2018 :: 0 comments

Translated by Yuanbing Zhang

Sometimes I see the sky smiling at me
The limpidity spirit and flower clouds
such as the old soul of mine
watch my shadow on the earth
The ground beneath my feet like a colossal ship
toward the Interstellar Kingdom
Those cities where giants dwell
blossom on the dustless Milky Way.

editors note: Let’s get to that place of smiles; this ship is wearing us down, we’re wearing it out… – mh clay

Seeing II

by on October 21, 2018 :: 0 comments

One peculiar condition
I’ve found in this strange life
that when I think I’ve seen it all,
something new comes along
more horrible or beautiful
than I’ve seen before,
renewing my still eager expectation
for continuation.

editors note: Yes! Please, let’s continue. – mh clay

Face Value

by on October 20, 2018 :: 0 comments

In the fog it is not possible to read someone’s face. Is optic nerve only reliable? Can it break a concrete surface? Work. Think. Assume. Gravitate. You accumulate all concrete slabs and rubble somewhere else. Say, in a bog. Environment experts gather with festoons of their political identities. Political slugfest starts. Croaking gets sharper through the cracks. At the end, your diapers get soiled with major contradictions.

editors note: Clearly, there’s trouble in the rubble; best sit this one out. – mh clay

Gray Sand

by on October 19, 2018 :: 0 comments

wet gray sand
gobs dropping through fingers

blustery day
wind slaps goose-pimpled skin

I create footsteps for detectives to follow
as of now no crime

a house on stilts
a lady holding her skirt above the waves

maybe the past can’t be revisited
but ghosts leave fingerprints

some think they are so smart like
those sails far out on the horizon riding the wind

that far free joy so unreal
as feet here walk around the driftwood, seaweed, rock

there’s something in the pit of the stomach
seawater, salt shriveling the human

everything has been decided
tides carry out the past, return only wreckage

where can one hide a body?
where can one hide a heart?
not in the gray sand.

– Dan Cuddy

editors note: No tempting a capricious tide. Keep your crimes to yourself, undone. – mh clay

NEW YORK ROUNDABOUT

by on October 17, 2018 :: 0 comments

the camera was freed up
the rep ready to go
he hopped in the cab
the sky turned over
and all the peds spilled out
falling through the clouds

the cabbie blew his horn
everybody got out of the way
he roared through the mountaintops
screaming with laughter

they made it to Union
he thought in the nick of time
he ran down the stairs
and got in line
then they all bailed
and he ran to the counter

all sold out
he crawled back up
and found the same cabbie
idling illegally

he said
can I get a refund
nope
can I get a receipt
nope
can I get a free ride
I’m broke
the cabbie said
you’re shit outta luck

editors note: Stuck in the rat race is bad enough; but, to be the losing rat…? – mh clay