May 10, 2014  :: 0 comments

Done right you never taste the propaganda,
but it’s hard to satisfy them all
sweet-toothed, saw-toothed, toothless
wretches yearning, and so forth.

I’m going to whisper this to be sure you hear it:
The angels are keeping secrets,
God’s secrets.
Good God, why?

They say you never work
a day if you love what you do.
Did you know it takes three truths to craft
one shiny perfect lie?

While we’re breathing about justice
how right is it that I have all these
reflecting bits of fact and you have none?
Here, choose one for yourself.


featured in the poetry forum May 10, 2014  :: 0 comments

Hold the cold weight steady
almost not metal but still heavy
balanced like virility
easy touch deadly
doesn’t understand unready
loaded safety off double indemnity.

Matte black
defense same as attack
fiction is as fact
act or react
brass pack won’t redact once it’s shot
a hole is what you’ve got.

Fit cool grip to hand
what’s to understand except
potential energy
firing cap lucidity
conservation of death kinetic
power equal and opposite to will
shoot miss scare don’t care shoot hit kill.

editors note:

When resolve is cold as the gun, cold as this poem, we’ve all cause to fear. Run! Hide! – mh

Certain Light

featured in the poetry forum March 25, 2013  :: 0 comments

Misunderstood as salt
she wanted now to dissolve.
Her favorite color seashore blue
at twilight when the mind imposes
color upon black truth.
A raven is blue in certain light.

editors note:

Is perception reality? Phenomenologically speaking, “Yes, indeed!” The raven is blue. – mh


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

If you have a hen and rooster
eat eggs not soup,
second rooster, have eggs in your stew
and one day when I wanted
only meat
I killed that lonely hen.

Never send salted water into your garden
lest it kill the crop this year
and next
and still I poured old broth
upon new growth
which wilted and has died.

In troubled times, store the last
potato, onion, rutabaga
for seed in civil springs
don’t do as I and eat
until dirt is the only dinner
while arid winter lingers.

When the land is dry
never kick a burning log
as I did
the sparks flying there, and there
and here
fires licking to life where any ember landed.

When all around are flames
just hold your breath
and your hope.

editors note:

Hold hunger over hope. Don’t kick those flames in the first place. Thanks for the wisdom, Randall! – mh


June 11, 2011  :: 0 comments

The road’s center line is just one
person’s opinion
albeit well-considered,
more suggestion if measured
than actuality.
See the sun?
It doesn’t fuck around.
Vernal equinox is
never approximate.
But staring at the sun
is making me


featured in the poetry forum June 11, 2011  :: 0 comments

Without a ladder
I’m not going very high.
I lack the gifts
of leap and grip.
If elevation is about
ambition in your eyes
by that measure
I’ll retain low station.
But give to me
your self-important
arguments and gripes
and watch me,
agile happy monkey,
scramble into my balloon
and rise above them.
Your gravity escapes me.
I will laugh
and lift

Flood Warning

featured in the poetry forum April 24, 2011  :: 0 comments

Idiot River is full to its banks
sandbagging crews will lose
though they persist
the logical thing to do
they knew
but no longer know
now wondering what (or if) to think
since thinking doesn’ t stem the flood
of idiotic rising mud

Blood (Letting)

featured in the poetry forum March 9, 2011  :: 0 comments

Razor words
cut quick
deep gashes,
thin-tongued blade
gone in a silver flash.

the edge concealed
hard lips reveal

The flayed opponent
unaware that
easy disregard
can cauterize the wound.

Exit Strategies

featured in the poetry forum January 21, 2011  :: 0 comments

The cat will not pretend
for long.
Nor will the dog
though truth he tells
sounds nothing like the cat’ s.

Your smile tight
you say we’ ll be okay
and the cat pretends to stretch
against my leg
talons curved to pierce
just enough
and I know it means:
I want out.

The dog barks
at the door
and whines
then barks again.