Lava Coma

featured in the poetry forum April 18, 2014  :: 0 comments

I want to make
less sense, or maybe
no sense at all,
be a base-runner
leaping from phone-box
to window frame,
hillside to hammock;
word and wordsmith
unravelling a long scarf
whose colours stretch
half way round the world,
leaping so high
gravity gives up

and we spin out into a darkness
blacker than an unlit candle,
as bright as lava
the moment before
the volcano bursts
and the people on the hillside
have no time to run,
only stand and stare
and wait for their time
to burn.

editors note:

Fire and fuel, flash frozen to burn both as art; a Pompeiian performance piece. – mh

Higher Ground

featured in the poetry forum February 26, 2013  :: 0 comments

I want to write poems
the way fat old guys
in Dixieland days
played the banjo,
hard and strong

rhythm like a fast foot tapping
on the soil
teasing the plants
to grow a little faster,
a little higher

– don’t you want to get up
and taste
that fat old sun?

editors note:

Just like a two-handed, chin dripping bite of a hot pork sandwich. Yes!! Damn right, I do! – mh

Scull

featured in the poetry forum January 1, 2012  :: 0 comments

Nothing more
than a small un-painted boat,
cracked boards leaking water
no name on the stern

pulling gently on its chain
like an old dog
eager to be home;

but if I lie back on those boards
mouth open wide
to suckle a little rain
I would howl and howl
till the river roared back,

and between us
we broke our chains.

editors note:

What way to begin a year full of new is better than to swim in the stream up or down unfettered? – mh