The Best of Mad Swirl : 05.25.24

The Best of Mad Swirl : 05.25.24
Don't play what's there, play what's not there. Miles Davis ••• The Mad Gallery ••• 0RH5180 ~ Richard Hanus To see all of Richard's vibrantly emotive works, as well as our other resident artists (50+ and counting!) take a virtual stroll thru Mad Swirl’s Mad Gallery! ••• The Poetry Forum ••• This last week on Mad Swirl’s Poetry Forum... we felt the[read more]

Mad Swirl Open Mic : 06.05.24

Mad Swirl Open Mic : 06.05.24
Join Mad Swirl this 1st Wednesday of June (aka 06.05.24) when we'll be doin' the open mic voodoo that we do do at our OC home, BARBARA’S PAVILLION! Hosts Johnny O & MH Clay will open the mad mic, starting with some musical grooves brought to you by Swirve (Chris & Tamitha Curiel, Gerard Bendiks). This month[read more]

The Best of Mad Swirl : 05.18.24

The Best of Mad Swirl : 05.18.24
For me, it is OK as long as I can breathe, as long as my heart is pumping, as long as I can express myself. Ai Weiwei ••• The Mad Gallery ••• 4I3A6116 ~ Richard Hanus To see all of Richard's vibrantly emotive works, as well as our other resident artists (50+ and counting!) take a virtual stroll thru Mad[read more]

University Creative Writing Club

My nine line poem circulates
like a minor infection
we’re too stubborn to wait for
at a doctor’s office for a prescription,
and the professor holds a pencil,
sharp as a scalpel starving for surgery,
underlining lines suffering
from cliches and malignant wording,
while my metaphor comparing
a lovely face to a watering can
quenches some of the more romantic members,
but the professor wasn’t fooled
by my diseased sentimentality,
which left me with another scar
I laugh about now
because there’s no other way.

Recently Published


we have a band

my friend, Larry – he’s the clapper

he claps however he wants at
whatever frequency he is comfortable with

mostly he does not clap
and[read more]

Attachment Items

She was always going
to antique shows
and talking about attachment

How the dead
came home with you
and then you had to live
with[read more]

Looking For A Fight Where There Isn’t Any

We Temper our Anger
before it hits Rage
with Strength
and Self-Control…
bringing ‘Balance’
and ‘Composure’
to Adverse Situations.
Walking ‘High Roads’
we avoid (Pointless)
Arguments with
small minded idiots
… and, it is also
far above[read more]

The Labyrinth

The Labyrinth

One night, I got stuck in Pueblo, Colorado. It's not a bad place, a steel mill town, semi-arid land sprawl, and as in a lot of towns, the bus station where I landed happened to be an underground hypermart: prostitutes, both sexes, dealers, and of course, all the big shots a road hog like me would ever wanna meet. The station's a fashion show of Bukowski clones after nightfall. I mention big shots because that's where I headed. A saloon across the street called The Big Shot Lounge had a salad[read more]
Lost in Paradise

Lost in Paradise

He is sitting alone on one of those hard-wearing combination double bench/tables found outside pubs and fast-food restaurants, coloured dark brown to make you think they are wooden, when they are in fact toughened plastic. Built to last, never to be eaten by worm, to be rotted by wind and cold. I doubt he has given the bench a moment’s thought, because people are puzzling enough for him, without considering the origins of machine-made inanimate objects that are simply just there and do not move round. What’s the expression used to label[read more]


He winked. My lips curled in utter disgust at the foam that gathered in the corners of his mouth. He thought his inebriation was well-disguised. Not to my eyes. His nostrils dilated with words he was at a loss to find. His tongue had grown quite numb with huge amounts of rum and every pore in his body exuded a repellent, habitual scent. My fingers, in quest of earplugs, faltered in my purse. I strove to protect my nervous system before he gave his first utterance. There was something nauseating about[read more]