The shirt I bought severs promises.
It attracts stain, odor, and crumples
briskly. The salesman had urged,
We treat cotton to produce
fine fabric.
Isn’t propensity native? It refutes
mutation.
Cotton, hair, or guilt; if it won’t fit, don’t wear it. – mh clay
Sorrow is as amazing as the sky
as it allows rainbows to appear and
I see the flashbacks fill the air
even faster than how a flock of birds
strives to guard the sun.
And then, agonies are those tiny worlds
three-quarters of whom are the waters and
the rest is where men make castles
on sweat or blood.
Maybe sweet sorrow might assuage the agonies inflicted upon us in our sweat and blood; maybe… (We welcome Kiriti to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay
why does my photographer friend
ask the models to avoid greasepaint?
I think
the camera reciprocates a mirror
The mirror makes an impression
and reveals the concealment
of flaws
The camera mocks the disguise
and celebrates light
Gotta wear shades to see her shine. – mh clay
after Vincent van Gogh
make it alive, I said,
give them the sun and a parrot
if you think right
at least some gay, yellow shine
wish he was listening to me
while he painted the sunflowers on canvas
life would not have stilled
had there been water in the vase
Nothing still about this life. – mh clay
