featured in the poetry forum November 3, 2018  :: 0 comments

This is the thing, the core,
the white-hot molten heavy metal
at the center of it all.

This is the moment of truth
or consequences
and you really don’t want to know
about the consequences.

No friendly shadows here,
no cover and no u-turns allowed.

This is the beating bloody heart
of the matter, with all its
irregularities and arrhythmias.

This is the times
and they are a-doing something,
I’m just not sure what.

This is the place where
everything happens
that can’t be postponed or avoided,

the place where we lock eyes,
hands, legs, pelvises,

hold tight to each other
like a pair of mongrel dogs fighting
over a great big juicy bone.

Sure, it may be a few days past
its gnaw-by date
but it’s still mighty tasty.

editors note: Yes! It and all and only until the next is it. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum October 28, 2017  :: 0 comments

You have to imagine a color darker
than black, swirls without movement,
reflections of alien landscapes
beyond human conception,

and all in glorious stereo – two sultry eyes,
two things like eyes, perfectly round,
unadorned by lash, lid or pupil,
taking in who knows what,

two tantalizing ripe cherries
waving at the ends of twin tendrils,
juicy and inviting and seriously toxic.

You could, if you chose, further imagine
yourself drowning in those eyes,
assuming your body were dense enough
to break their viscous surface.

Those eyes, those mysterious orbs,
I fell in love with those breathtaking eyes –
but in the end I married her
for her many-suckered tentacles.

editors note:

Love by hypnosis; captured into co-dependence. – mh clay

Aglio E Olio

featured in the poetry forum September 18, 2016  :: 0 comments

The torrid sizzle
of their meeting
could have easily resulted
in a lifetime
of congealed regret,

but fortunately
for the olive oil,
in today’s online economy
revirgination is only
a mouse click away.

editors note:

There’s an app for everything. (Read another of Jeffrey’s jabs on his page, about a dog’s life – check it out.) – mh clay


September 18, 2016  :: 0 comments

teeth to bone
work for your meal
walk don’t run
nose to dirty glass
limp home
roll in stench
watch the old man
on the corner
he smells

editors note:

Not so far from the dog. That old man could bite, too. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum July 18, 2015  :: 1 comment

some might call him
or seeker,
peeping tom,
rattler at locks,
one who charges full tilt
to the end
of the earth,
and stretches
and slices his finger
on one of
Saturn’s razor-thin rings,
and allows his
own eccentric orbit
to carry him
and down
and into the mist.

editors note:
Follow the explorer, seeker; peep and rattle. It’s the only way to know what lies beyond the mist… – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum October 1, 2014  :: 0 comments

uninterested in love
world events
the thousand-year camel
delicately balanced
on his own elongated shadow
and spits
into the fiery sunset
just for the ephemeral thrill
of seeing the droplets
and dance.

editors note:

A ruminant’s take on the Middle East conflict; a spit and a sizzle. – mh


featured in the poetry forum May 9, 2014  :: 0 comments

Dedicated, single-minded
he saves all the bones from every thing he eats,

cleans them, dries them, fits them together
into intricate new patterns that he says
live within the bones themselves –

chicken bones, steak bones, fish bones,
bones from rabbits, snakes, pigeons, possums,
God only knows what –

all wired together, they teeter on every
flat surface in his den, simultaneous
conversation starters and stoppers.

He’d prefer to be vegetarian for the sake of
his health, but you have to suffer for your art
and sometimes for your craft.

editors note:

Though all gotta suffer, not all gotta starve. – mh


featured in the poetry forum September 1, 2013  :: 0 comments

We come to take you away
from yourselves
and into the dreaming dawn
we the new jihadis
huns mongels slavers
conquistadors riding in on
the ebony surf
delivering pain and purification
revelation in the form of
cold objective data –
behold us in our tens of thousands
steely gleaming in
the starlight
unyielding in our brotherly
and sisterly love
at the end of days
the last holy warriors
pilgrims liberators
knights in adamantine armor
bringing true and
irreversible conversion
to you
the welcoming masses.

editors note:

All that’s right and best for us, magnificently marketed and packaged to sell. We, the ignorant, need true believers to lead us away from our folly. Welcome, welcome; well… I don’t know know about that. – mh


featured in the poetry forum December 30, 2012  :: 0 comments

Kitty leaps in the dark,
scrabbles, spits,
crash of photo frames,
glasses, ashtrays
onto the bare floor.

No one has ever
bothered to tell kitty
she has excellent
night vision –
she’s resigned herself

to groping her
way through the dark,
whiskers fully extended,
sensing only her
soft feline regrets.

editors note:

Poor cats, not very smart, so easily embarassed. As someone said, “No forehead, no brains!” – mh


featured in the poetry forum July 9, 2012  :: 0 comments

My own personal monkey god
has great big brass balls, divine treasures
hoarded close between his folded monkey legs,
and a penetrating look to his eyes.

He seems to be daring you to speculate about
his outrageous ornaments and what they might
symbolize. Do they have a utilitarian purpose?
Can they be detached and put into play,
rolled about on the tabletop?

Most likely they are just decorative in the end,
a monkey god’s necessary and rightful
accoutrements, some sort of transcendental
tantric stamp he puts on his pagan world:

These are my big brass monkey balls.
You may gaze at them and imagine their cold
powerful smoothness, but such divine potency
will always remain just beyond the reach
of your earthly outstretched hands.

editors note:

Let these balls roll freely on the great green felt. The gods are working a combination shot to sink the eternal eight ball; odds are on the monkey, to win. – mh