Featured Poems

PSA 2015

by on October 5, 2015 :: 0 comments

To all the victims and survivors of the current genocides/holocausts and more specifically to the brother who wore deer antlers on his head while his white co-worker-agents dressed in camo and guns posed with him laughing for the camera. Brother man, when you got up to shave that morn, did the foam on the mirror say, nigger die

The predatory nature of…
5 nanoseconds of fame 2015
Am I still smoking that shit
I could have sworn I quit 2 decades ago
Ms Wanda can you still hear us
Ms Maya are we still communicating
Are the hailing frequencies still open
Are the 4 Kings assembled for the summit
Or maybe I should just title this
PSA 2015

editors note:

To countermand the current hashtag sensation; this Public Service Announcement to color coded folks, for whom privilege is hard-gained, if ever, but mostly never granted… – mh clay

Once Upon a Time

by on October 4, 2015 :: 0 comments

I wrote
so many words
my fingers exploded, bled
red across the keyboard, down the white desk top
until the bones showed, exposing
the exact nature of the thoughts, emotions
carried into the letters and truths
I so sought out in midnight runs
to serenity.

Went to the doctor the next morning
asked if this condition was a permanent one.
“Yes, I’m afraid it is – unless”
“Unless what!” I bellowed, still in pain
the wrapping around the digits soaked.

“Unless you cease the unnecessary tears
you unveil. All might be lost
because every molecule of your being
is connected to a greater whole, and the ideas
you spread across the pages weep
when you tell your tale too many times
to too many people”

The well-intentioned ER medic re-bandaged my wounds
gave me a shot in the arm and a prescription
before shooing me out of her hospital.

So here I am, yet again, while the moon is full
hoping beyond hope her diagnosis was incorrect.

But if she’s correct,
and my hands are the ones to blow this time
I think I’ll just stay at home
let nature do its work
reflect on the purity of God, the Universe
before taking my final nap, shaking off
this mortal coil, knowing that my final thoughts
were those that needed to be shouted
not to the mountain tops
but to the world from a tiny room
filled with photos of my child, my girlfriend,
and all the other memories that made me
fill the galaxy full of love . . .

editors note:

Once upon a time is ever and always waiting for the storyteller to begin. – mh clay


by on October 3, 2015 :: 0 comments

Tiny space . . . now clockwise . . . or left
to left, excuse me, I meant right; I don’t
appreciate interruptions, normally, but
reminds me of the time that I, hosting
a General Manager from Massachusetts,
& he entered a posh restaurant, Crystal City,
via the freight elevator.

Everyone cheered when from their kitchen
elevator filled with crates of cabbages,
corn husks & carrots, two sheepish suits

Though well attended to, as I recall, water
glasses brimming, plates disappearing like
Houdini’s & desserts piling up like the usual
quid pro quo.

editors note:

The magic of diversion; cabbages, suits and Houdini’s plates. I’ll take this for that. Yes! – mh clay


by on October 2, 2015 :: 0 comments

A ripple of air passes over a
curtain in an open window.

Papers tumble gently, trapped
at the base of a picket fence.

A weather vane signals
direction, twisting quickly.

A furious language descends.
Shutters slap senselessly
without rhythm.

Tree tops swirl like ocean
bottom seaweed.

Leaves and branches are
swallowed by wind’s appetite.

Clouds swell. The sky ignites
with jagged bristling tails.

Rain releases the beginning
of healing.

The storm finds reason to move.
Sounds fade to welcome release.

editors note:

There’s a bite in the air this morning; I feel the season turning far above. – mh clay

In This Dream

by on October 1, 2015 :: 0 comments

after Metallic Dreams, artist Osnat Tzadok

I am silver. Gold and bronze,
my brothers in armor (yet to be
forged), crawl from midnight’s fire.
We will join
battle against blasphemous sun.
The enemy of creation
is a molten eye. Clarity
holds a magnifying presence,
scars our skin. We prefer to pick
the scabs, let them run
like rivers amongst the fogged
echo of nocturne’s voice.

editors note:

Which awakened sense preceded; eye or ear? The battle for ascendancy endures,  elicits art. (This is exemplary ekphrasis; google the artist and work to see A.J.’s inspiration – excellent.) – mh clay

Do the Moon

by on September 30, 2015 :: 0 comments

Youth’s pre-love peace
Exited at light speed
Leaving a gutty paradise
Sizzling my heart as summer sand on bare feet
love emerged as my life emperor
and drove the me I became

– Gregg Dotoli

editors note:

Love’s challenge, capricious queen; to be gutty while not being gutted. – mh clay


by on September 29, 2015 :: 0 comments

Camouflaged as spicy mangotini
that passed between their lips
it melted into a pool of thirst
on his warm tongue
her laughter was rousing
and he had an addictive personality

editors note:

He’s jonesing for this, his delighful addiction; shaken AND stirred. – mh clay