Featured Poems


by on July 3, 2015 :: 0 comments

Notice the non mirror image,
stripped backing, a window
and you are a tree, a bird singing,
a car goes by with the boom, Boom, BOOM,
you are an irate citizen writing letters to the mayor.

Fixer of stare back, black paint
and the picture changes, it is you,
but not, your mind knows who you are,
it is not this reversal of fortune, sag eyed
wrinkle in time, you wave and the beast waves in turn.

Smile, the flake from breakfast, she ate the same
in that other universe, does it come back to haunt
her in her old age? Or maybe she lives forever, through
the membrane and you try to step, she places her palm
against yours, sad smile, maybe a tear for what might be,

You both turn away.

editors note:

Turn from one parallel universe; walk smack into another. – mh clay

Your average Muslim Joe and Mary

by on July 2, 2015 :: 0 comments

Eradicated en masse by the Muslim fundamentalists for not being Muslim enough and siding with the West

Tried unilaterally in the media, embarrassed, condemned, regarded with suspicion, frisked at the airports, many having lost their lives and checked off as collateral damage by the warring West

Often misunderstood and taken out of context

Never for a conflict, we like it quiet and out of limelight

Not expecting anyone to bail us out or elevate our status

Some fault for all this surely lies with us

We are your average Muslim Joe and Mary, the single largest casualty, the silent tragedy of this war on terror

And it is for us to find a way out of this rut

To become a world-class scientist, a politician, an artist, an entrepreneur, a philosopher

Excel at living and never say never

editors note:

A little perspective, right? A little empathy. A little tolerance… – mh clay

Poems that Begin with the Letter “I”

by on July 1, 2015 :: 0 comments

I am guilty
I am included
I am crybaby, lecherous, disability welfare, pot smoker
I am victim, attacker, liar and clown
I am a thief, a scoundrel
A saint
I am praying
A folly
A collection of myths in the morning twilight
False dawn
The cork out of an absinthe bottle
I am slum lord of this Texas imagination

All these poems that begin with the letter “I”

– PW Covington

editors note:

This poet’s Texas imagination puts the “I” in big, but everything is, in Texas. – mh clay


by on June 30, 2015 :: 0 comments

Yesterday we dreamed

Of our nights
Shaken by dread.

What escape
Is beyond
The flame

Of flesh
That licks
In crevices


Who can

– Joseph Lisowski

editors note:

Questions only angels are qualified to ask. – mh clay

A (major) re-visiting

by on June 29, 2015 :: 0 comments

Last night I went to Lyon on a –
booking click and purpose of your trip?
alluded to some sort a form of work, unspecified
and rubbed things out

when all the while (I and others knew)
I’d gone to stew in sweat and smoke
and bodies reunited up up close

drinking, drink, inhale what’s this, and lifting items from the shelf,
ash dropping
everywhere the sheer exuberance
of foie gras
nonchalantly hid

amongst the cans of sweetcorn, found
we slathered over bread
then went to bed

held hands walking in the park
smoked on bench
and fought

before I left, satisfied, bereft perhaps, a little,

– Isobel Atacus

editors note:

A weekend fling; patch up to break up to start full and leave empty (major). – mh clay

The Grape Cigar

by on June 28, 2015 :: 0 comments

Mary ripped off the bandage, his brain
tumor was visible, the treatments had
made him worse, she made a blunt

From a grape cigar and some red bud
Columbian, Quick’s mouth watered in
anticipation, he told her to put on Tom

Petty singing about dancing the last time
with Mary Jane, he toked hard on the herb
he dreamed of the Louvre and Whistler’s

Mother getting out of her rocking chair
and walking like an Egyptian, the Thinker
bumping fists with him and La Gioconda
shedding blue purple crocodile tears.

– Catfish McDaris

editors note:

A little smoke in the mirror of Alice’s reality.  The Mona Lisa never looked better. – mh clay

Universal Truths

by on June 27, 2015 :: 0 comments

When Bill was a lad
his parents preached that
Scripture was the truth.

Decades later now
Bill still believes that.
In college, though,

his professors told him
science was the truth.
Bill still believes that, too.

But there’s another truth
that Scripture and science
never clarified for Bill.

At age 13 he saw it
scratched on a wall
in black graffiti

above a public urinal,
a universal truth he had
just begun to understand.

The message was
“Big tits are the greatest!”
a truth he still believes as well.

editors note:

Yes! Intelligent Design; faith for the faithless. – mh clay