Featured Poems

new questions

by on January 22, 2018 :: 0 comments

our eyes are windows on life
filtering all we encounter

a youngster whips perilously close on his scooter…
is he a nasty child
or just thoughtless?

a large dog barks loudly…
is he ferocious
or just playful?

a woman holds her infant…
is she hugging her child
or checking the baby’s diaper?

a pigeon dive-bombs me…
is he vengeful
or just being a bird?

that adorable little dog…
has just urinated in the elevator
was it an accident
or a neglectful owner?

editors note:

Would our answers be new if we didn’t take the questions personally? – mh clay


by on January 21, 2018 :: 0 comments

Thieves arrest midnight
because willows choke the sky
where a farmer starved

he wore a red hat
along the path to his house
this fits his headstone

now he mocks the ghosts
the ones born with all the stars
shining for no one

he is robbing thieves
they are all cops and judges
they are his fathers.

editors note:

Fall to sidle up to selfish celestial ancestors; take your place, take all. – mh clay

Chester Wilbury

by on January 20, 2018 :: 0 comments

The ineffable
is wide awake
is always
in between
it is the
of nothing
that’s never
yet always
will be
not past present
nor future,
that never
could be
nor never
could not
of it.
And that
is what is
to me,
and too nothing…

editors note:

This too much to take, to accept. It all turns back on itself; back to nothing. Too nothing… (What does Chester know, anyway?) – mh clay


by on January 19, 2018 :: 0 comments

Flashbacks convoke me to crepuscular hours
when I was about seven at gramps. From
the restroom I could see his renters: didn’t
understand the intimations of their acrobatics.
They had me hooked unlike riddles in maths
or what else I was macerating. I would stand
in his washroom ensorcelled by the magic of
their moves, undertaking lessons in addiction
and obsession. I didn’t have a front seat view.
Had I a few centimeters I could have gleaned
those glyphs better.

editors note:

A few centimeters short of a full peep makes for a half-assed view. – mh clay


by on January 18, 2018 :: 0 comments

Every time when I ask my doctor
about the mole
just down my left nostril
he replies that
he observes
the rubble
of a drawing room,
well furnished in the past.
The broken pieces of furniture
and the walls
interpret the devastation
in various ways.
He adds
that rats are often leaping
over full stops
and disappearing
down the cantilever bridge
of the city
which the English built in 1943.

editors note:

Dalliance in this diagnosis makes map to cure impossible to chart. Best learn to live with it. – mh clay

August 14, 2017

by on January 17, 2018 :: 0 comments

When I greet the day
peacefully, you stab
the day with a knife—
a knife that stays,
looks like you,
a pith in the core
of tireless beginnings.
I bleed for you
red alphabets of time.
I bleed, like an ancient
tear in the eye
of the strangest wall,
the impregnable fog
in our midst.

editors note:

Mark your date for your days like this. – mh clay

All Buildings Look like Temples

by on January 16, 2018 :: 0 comments

I put on a mask
who am I fooling
abstraction, regardless
it all comes out the same
what do I do with a moment?
the possibilities reside
in savory endlessness
let’s talk about
what my behavior would look like
if I slipped up for one second
“a fake”
who said that?
out of sync
with the fabric
is that what you thought would happen?
7 days ago
it’s unrelated
& seemingly irrelevant
I’ll let you fill in the blanks
there’s an idea in your head
what were you thinking?
maybe if we move a little bit
then, I’ll feel better
it’s a little more abstract
less personal
the opposite –
is that what you were going for?
I propose
a vulnerable maneuver
grafted onto expectations
no craft –
are you ready to ensue?
did you see that car passing swiftly by you?
I laugh –
no, did you?
it was the corner of the eye
you get the beers
I got the shot
but what’s the difference
this is to my fellow instrument

editors note:

Rancorous cacophony or resonant chord; keep those shots coming. – mh clay