Featured Poems

Unlearn Me

by on June 24, 2018 :: 0 comments

Is that a security detail walking beside you,
or a cane?

The car won’t start
and the mind won’t stop.

If you could unlearn me, you would have by now.

Quality demonstrates craft.
Quantity illustrates consistency.

Dizzy hopscotch girls jumping into the sun.

I wouldn’t spend another dime
on this nickel of a life.

Afternoons are best for me.
Mornings should be banned.

editors note:

Quality, quantity… quandary. Not another dime on the nickel, except maybe for coffee. – mh clay

The Tale of Temecula

by on June 23, 2018 :: 0 comments

Father sky and mother earth
Came to union; valley sun
Held in light in this magic place
To tell the tale of Temecula.

A dry wind calls the adobe wake
Golden grape; aging stake
A steady man rides morning beam
In long relief around town

“Coffee sir?” plies winsome lass
His answer, her discretion
“Thank you ma’am” a solid script
subtlety her profession.

Often noticed, rarely seen
This Art raised from plaster plane
The Creator’s spell is motion struck
On amber waves and grain

“what do you wish?” she presses
lyre into stone
“to touch wonder” leading dancer back
“then come, my favorite one.”

Wooden ships break the mist
Christ and King they name
Desert palm peace to gallery thief
“By God, this be our claim”

“How do you choose them?” he continues,
Suitably comforted by her vision
“love and human condition” she says
depth in the edition

Dissolving shadow boundary, their instances collide
Out in the open; choice as art,
Art as business;
work as life.

Time melts up the belfry in this ancient pueblo town
Stakes and staves; forgotten names
While through cactus needles the dry wind blows
Outside the town of Temecula.

editors note:

Original or limited edition; observer art as observation. – mh clay


by on June 22, 2018 :: 0 comments

we pinch with our eyes
the sight of the long horizon
spilling out this glow
to all sides of us
and the clouds move in tantrums
like snakes
like the tails of cats
thrashing in slow motion
and our motion slows
into this desert of ourselves
we find only mirages where
we should have been
we do not drink even when
all we know is thirst.

editors note:

Mirage or mirror, this sip of existence is hard to swallow. – mh clay


by on June 21, 2018 :: 0 comments

When you blow out
your birthday candles — oh, don’t sigh.
Don’t think another year gone
or that your life is diminished
or how fleeting the flame is.
Think about how here you stand,
here you still stand blowing out
the tiny candles yet again on this
September date with your curly
hair and wild wild spirit and you,
you are not extinguished — no, you’re not.
Despite everything, despite it all.
You burn bright, baby.
You burn bright.
Now have some cake.

editors note:

After those salad days, comes dessert. We’re never too old for cake! – mh clay

The Willing Face of Corporate Chemistry

by on June 20, 2018 :: 0 comments

The willing face of corporate chemistry continues to abuse power, to ease
Charges brought against assart bullies liberating bosses from investigation.
Captured partners, even types pleasing to look at, die one by one, anyway.

Grasp, money’s successful hooks no longer astonishing workers or media,
Whether or not demises occur suddenly, else linger like bad drain cleaners
In toilets, sinks, bathtubs, reservoirs, all contrary to healthy living. Stinks!

Members of most sales forces buck competitively-priced services, likewise
Deign to advertise, as superior products, less-than-industry standard, tripe
While accruing adoration purchased across untruths, mendacities, deceits.

They purchase consumer love via quiltbag politics, possible epigenetic
Changes, place their findings in “academic” journals of no true worth.
Five year-old-styled wisdoms won’t ever parallel weathered certainties.

editors note:

Wink your weather eye to discern the fakery in the f**kery. (It’s all f**kery!) – mh clay


by on June 19, 2018 :: 0 comments

There is a crease,
A crease like a pain,
Small and crumbling
Small enough not to take it all away
Small and creased enough to make it uncomfortable forever.
It came because of love
Because the creator and the creation are bound together
It came out of love
Love to protect the creator from unwanted troubles
It forgot it was the creator.
She understands when things go wrong
She will get to know one day because the power is with her.
And the pain was inflicted by that stranger.
Without a thought, without a heart.
Just a convenience.
Bruising two hearts forever,
Scratching the souls.
Hearts get broken,
But souls heal.
Hearts go away from the other.
Souls are together forever.
Hearts beat together in love
Souls are entwined in a single form.
The creator is always the protector, the Mother
The created, the child who will always be inside her soul.
That stranger will cease to exist and at times
The child will scorn and fight the stranger
The child is now strong – strong enough to protect his creator
Roles reverse at times; the creator and the child.
The souls remain entwined forever – the child and the Mother.

– Devapriya Choudhuri

editors note:

A new spin on creationist theory. (Or, maybe not so new; which came first?) – mh clay

The seventh day

by on June 18, 2018 :: 0 comments

The protection
of the helpless
the witness
of the desperate
hope of the innocent
the seventh day
creation of life
on the bright side
of the death.

editors note:

Bright, this side, begs the question; is really so dark from the dead perspective? – mh clay