confessions of love
in funky kerning
lilt down her chin
drip
between her breasts
onto his face
into his eyes
his ears
his mind
body
soul
enamored now
in her pyrite words
too lost
in heated frenzy
of bodies entwined
to notice the sting
of a sinking
blade
until he becomes
nothing more
than another ghost
in her collection
From tryst to trophy in one stroke. Beware! – mh clay
beside myself
inside a daydream
burnt into
another me’s
reality
split
in two
a memory
a past life
held against the
corners of
my mind
in angst
pinstriped suit
breast pocket ring
underneath
our favorite
picnic willow
tattooed
with a heart
by a switchblade
long ago
down
on one knee
in vain
roses growing
on her dress
more thorn
than petal
I tipped my hat
to the could’ve
been and
walked away
laughing
at the used to be
and ain’t no more
after she
said…
Don’t say what you don’t mean. – mh clay
Vicodins and V8
the flying V
hangover cure-all
don’t push your luck
I might be wrong
the smell of the dog
made me vomit
nothing a little
hair of the dog
can’t fix
diet Sunkist
and butterscotch bourbon
vape juice
helped get the taste
out of my mouth
thumping head
swollen feet
I think I had
a good time
but I can’t remember
much
now I’m hungry
let’s go get some
tacos
Quarantine nights? Tacos sound good, right now. – mh clay
a new version of me
every few seconds
a new head
a new mind
a new carcass
picking my bones
dry
spending time
with myself
to keep the romance
alive
let down
with soiled pants
breastfeeding wounds
that speak
with bullets
from my nipples
going in
sane
first equation
magick trick
peeling scabs
so nobody
dies
passing notes
to the fly on the wall
written in dirt
from under my nails
dry
picking my bones
a new carcass
a new mind
a new head
every few seconds
a new version of me
Each loop a zero, each lap, a new… Yeah! – mh clay
How many more years can I live like this?
How many years have I lived like this?
The whiskey talks, but I can’t hear
a word it says.
My body, lulled into submission
by its precious poison.
A rotten man trying to reverse
the years of abuse.
Maybe I’ll donate my body
to science.
Maybe I’ll be the first
successful cyborg.
Able to accept the fact
that I will live on without feeling.
But, I’m doing that now.
So what’s the difference?
Possibly prescient, if not well preserved. (This poem comes from JDC IV’s recent release of “Unwritten Words That Slide Down The Wall.” Read a great review of it by Mike Fiorito on our blog. It will make you want to get your own copy here. Check it out!)
Maybe I’m with the ghost?
A ghost, unseen?
The dead,
fit together.
Love
makes you do
funny things.
Keys clacking
piano notes.
Am I your puppet?
Or are you mine?
[…] Sincerely,In the ether of the exchange, sometimes a hyphen is a heart. (We welcome James to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay
remember
not born
what ground
founded
i listen
in goodness now
we all change
i miss you
all
and your paper airplane
suicide notes
wish
you were by the fire
here
with
me
in glorious
form
even
in
time
away
from here
there
with
a
wish
i
we
had typewriter
bodies
playing
hushed
to the point around that door
memories
reborn
again
It’s all a matter of how long we can hold it, right? (Or, how much we can type before we run out of paper?) – mh clay
here we go
better take care
think about this
think about that
breathing deep
with our minds
on the countdown
the sky rips open
we fall off the world
never enough
guns
drugs
money
bullets
but at least
we’ll never
grow old
take that with a
grain of salt
again and again
living in the age
of technology
looking at the
future
just like you
forever
bones buried
in the marsh
bells ringing
under the tree
of life
get low
get high
get it on
If forever lives tree, might forever live we. – mh clay
