featured in the poetry forum September 11, 2020  :: 0 comments

an image within a song
showing up before you arrive
appearing bigger in the eyes
of yourself and where you are

on a front porch
as a door opens
like the words
you push in the swing
at days end
and a front light
forming a circle
where dew and toys
share space

while night
holds its breath
as wishes and dreams
climb over the moon
to the other side

editors note:

When moonlight makes image into wish, a view come true. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum May 7, 2020  :: 0 comments

there’s an
opportunity of

to go the
other way
avoiding the

to immediately
impose on
something to
believe in
without striving

receiving the
of everything
you’re out of

becoming more
than anybody
not just an
leaving the
rough road

editors note:

On your road to self-discovery, who do you think you are? – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum December 19, 2019  :: 0 comments

There’s rain
in the desert
where lizards
and one-eyed dogs
on the
wrong side of the
and bars with
tired neons
blink onto
cactus and sand
where nothing
comes alive
lightning and
dry winds
as we try for the
right way
leaving behind
what tries to
hold us back
in the desert
where even the
water has no place
to go.

editors note:

Seeking the vagaries in a closed system. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum August 25, 2019  :: 0 comments

It’s on the
edge of the desert

an open door welcomes
the thirsty
and the curious

ashtrays full of
last night’s words
and crushed hearts
where leather jackets
and quarters keep
the juke box breathing

passing freight trains
push a melody
to someplace

where truckers kill time
until the coffee
turns cold

songs on the road
top down
next town signs
shot to death

where lizards and snakes
crawl the night dance

editors note:

Step inside. The desert comes, too. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum April 22, 2019  :: 0 comments

It’s all to soon
for the sun to be
impaled on a
low horizon
or for windows
to wink shut
as dry winds
lose their growl
to light sea breezes
leaning lazily
on shorelines
while the dusk of
mercy and
angels with words
breathe a comfort
into darkness
as a pale moon
pushes up.

editors note:

An angel scratches ink, speaks peace. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum January 13, 2019  :: 0 comments

It was a social painting
society moving
a tradition of going
and places achieved
the divide of space
sacrificed for destination
remarkable for determination
embroidered hearts
safe from strangers
each a star
without a shine
a name hidden within
rivers of shoulders
a universe of faces
each with a history
like waves under a

editors note:

Running the race to save face, but never recognition. Objects in motion… – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum August 31, 2018  :: 0 comments

Railroad Avenue.
Cinders and broken glass.
Warm engines blowing smoke.
Old men with hats, suspenders,
stained work boots and pants.
Great stories of Louisiana bayous,
marshlands, mountains and oceans.
Empty freight cars transporting
lost souls and homeless dreams.
Wooden platforms, benches carved
with names. Trackside families.
Steady work. Scars and sweat.
Creosote and oil, steel and shovels,
the tissue that connects.
A whistle in the distance,
forever gone.

editors note:

Train of thought, recalled from rails; wistful whistle stops stay the passage of time. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum April 29, 2018  :: 0 comments

I pulled down a dream.
Opened like a present.
I feel a full sun warming me;
breezes reinforce the
Beach grass bends to rhythm.
Bicycles, open shirts,
uncombed hair. Faces without
voices. Water reflections.
Warm freshly tarred roads.
The fragrance of low tide.
Corners without
Each day writes its own menu.
Radios speak in concert over sand.
It was an open window.
Freedom not to return, except by

editors note:

Return, so sweet, when free to not. Next dream, please. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum January 30, 2018  :: 0 comments

A drawing on the wall attracts
An old couple shake their heads
and then their fists.
A young woman reaches out,
touching the colors.
A dog walks by.
A pregnant woman scans the image
while rubbing her abdomen.
Two young boys on bikes laugh
and ride off.
A city bus stops. Passengers step
off and separate, noticing nothing.
A man and a woman contemplate the
wall, arguing as they walk away.
A nun passes by quickly, her eyes
rigidly forward.
A soldier presses his hand to his
A rabbi stops, looking intently and
then begins to cry.

editors note:

Eye couldn’t say what art walks by, what heart makes cry. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum August 24, 2017  :: 0 comments

The train lunged in
and out of order. Heads swayed
like displaced seaweed mocking
gravity. The stars and moon remained
in place. Thick metal wheels turn
with conviction. There is no shame
for those asleep, leaning onto windows,
newspapers for pillows. The miles create
a low hum. The engine possesses a pure heart.
White smoke rains upward. Surrounding
breezes are pushed aside; weight has
privilege. Nameless roads pass by
within a blur like uninvited relatives.
Darkness blocks the view. The engine
scowls forward. Vanity is a boastful drunk.

editors note:

No tougher train to ride than your train of thought. – mh clay