featured in the poetry forum July 13, 2024  :: 0 comments

I lived this day:

I hauled my place in space.

I entered the surrounds of others –

noticed maybe, probably forgotten.

I took of time, as all survivors.

Six hundred scents passed through me.

I swelled the few who knew they lived –

those who felt the clock subtract –

but I was one who did too little.

Only this.

editors note:

If this is it, let this be enough. – mh clay

Cog Jam

featured in the poetry forum September 8, 2023  :: 0 comments

You think your feet are broad!
No, you are the smallest thing.
You think you see, but are
you seen from birth to death?
You walk where you think
you know, inside a void
you never try to fill
because you find it too
grand to comprehend and
it’s too easy just to take
the next step, and then the next.
Your impulse will be nothing
near the versions given –
the frames those weak of
body, sneak of mind,
extemporised to gain control.
It’s not the ‘universe’.
It never was.
Those ever growing telescopes
are pointing the wrong way.

editors note:

Look out, keep walking! (Doesn’t that feel better?) – mh clay

Reflections in the Food Court

featured in the poetry forum March 22, 2023  :: 0 comments

Enough remain who’ll lucidly recall
a time before the time I witness now
when members of their species sat
and spoke, and listened, and engaged.
As I navigate the floor, unmazing
left and right, my sole intent’s
to reach those grooved metallic stairs
that loop and loop until they don’t.
A passage you’d complete ten thousand
times, at least, in different permutations.
But still you see. See first. Grin perhaps,
then maybe count. They’re sat. You’re up.
You see the scene they don’t. Tables
sometimes full, sometimes threes or pairs,
all holding versions of a basic type.
Together, but alone. Addressing,
sliding, pressing, peering or enlarging,
in desperate need to validate themselves.
Survivors of the days of empty hands
will tell us that they had no cause for that.

editors note:

Too short for a eulogy, too long for an epitaph. (We welcome David to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay

Absolute License

featured in the poetry forum November 29, 2022  :: 0 comments

We name it life, unknown of what it is.
Within it, we exert some thousand wills
responsible for dullness, ecstasy, and craft.
Random ends in ignorance produced
by those whose only mission is decay.
We’re not, and then we are, and then we’re not.
Brief wearers of this chain of straw,
we owe no one. There’s nobody to owe.
When faced with choices, we can do or not;
for ultimately nothing parts the two.
We can manufacture ties of loyalty,
but these exist alone to test or break.
Unpalatable it is, perhaps,
but no opinion counts that’s worth the name.
This is the blood and bone of us.
Some it scares; others liberates.

editors note:

License without learner’s permit; we’re destined to drive this into the ground. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum August 24, 2022  :: 0 comments

Came in, with unusual
quietness (apparently);
played with cats on
the floor; wrote stories,
drew pictures; became a
small authority on that
game where you kick
that ball and the other
where you use that bat.
Read and wrote, and
read some more. Joined
the world. Tried people –
mixed results – went back
to cats. Wrote again.
Most likely will exit
quietly too, remembrance
to unlast past one generation.

editors note:

Writing to undo one’s unlasting. – mh clay