The Love of a Dandelion

August 10, 2015  :: 0 comments

Even as a boy, he felt yellow, even just looking at it on a page, his skin heated by its invisible rays. In school he drew suns with fiery light rays shooting off of its surface. “You should draw something else, Colin,” said his teacher Mrs. Lipshitz. “There are trees, grass hills and houses, too.” “I like suns. I draw …

Zeno’s Quest for Zero (an ABC Poem)

featured in the poetry forum June 3, 2015  :: 0 comments

Avowedly bold celestial
Error faithfully.
Gnostic hounds
Inspire jesting.
Knowledge lures metaphysicians. Nurtures other people.
Queries rage strong.
The universe,
Vying wisdom,
Xenophobically yields zeros.

editors note:

We don’t count in the universal tally? That celestial opinion amounts to zero by mine! – mh clay

Fat Andy

February 27, 2015  :: 0 comments

That could have been me getting nearly killed that day as I sat on the schoolyard steps getting high with Ferrone. But it wasn’t my turn, yet. Only a few weeks earlier I had bought a ten dollar bag of weed on credit from Fat Andy. Fat Andy was a new dealer in Astoria Park. Being a little taller than …

Small Matters

October 31, 2014  :: 0 comments

We got the call at 5 A.M. My father had woken from a coma after forty-eight hours and asked to see his family. Before he had fallen into the coma, we had brought him home from the hospital. “Take him home and make him comfortable; he doesn’t have long,” the doctor said. We came home and ordered food. For my …

Staying Home

June 13, 2014  :: 0 comments

“I dream about you a lot these days,” I say to my dad. “And for some reason I show you up in your dreams,” he responds, laughing. It doesn’t feel like I’m dreaming. His voice is clear. The wisps of his grey hair are fine and crisp. I see the individual strands layered on top of each other. I always …

Because of You

March 21, 2014  :: 0 comments

Making a big entrance, Uncle Tutti arrived late at my high school graduation party, like a Hollywood star. He wore a smart black suit, buttoned near the collar and black and white Domino shoes. “My godson,” said Uncle Tutti, pinching my cheek with the thick fingers of one hand and slyly handing me an envelope with the other. “Now, I’m …


January 3, 2014  :: 0 comments

“Why did we separate?” my son Theo asks. He’s seven years old. “We’re not separated now, right? I’m with you tonight,” I say. “’Today is Monday and l will see you Wednesday, and Friday too.” We’re drawing; we always talk when we draw. I can never get him to talk if I just ask him questions directly. I bought us …