featured in the poetry forum June 8, 2024  :: 0 comments

“Si non meminero tui…”

It happened again today.
I forgot a word I needed,
and it did not reappear
as I waited for it to come
like expecting a phantom train.
My mind blotted out
parts of speech, as if
it breathed on an empty mirror
and when I swiped the fog
away with my flat hand
everything disappeared, even
why I wanted that word.
Maybe the cortex or other
place storing these flashcards
was gradually clearing itself
to become unpolluted, clean
as a tabula rasa to record
some magnificent idea or
vocabulary newly invented.
But I could not blame
the handful of grey matter.
It was my fault somehow,
a failure to be mindful.
When I say “perfection,”
it sounds like “shadow.”
And at the use of “music”
I’ll think only of “silence.”
So the yoked letters
in the few words left
cascade like water
falling over a rock lip
to land on stone.
And the forgetting,
a blocked speech,
is that vacant space between,
a blank corridor of shutting doors
where I once spoke your name.

editors note:

Where we recall no name, there will be nobody. (We welcome Royal to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum March 1, 2024  :: 1 comment

There were dragons here
the oldest ones sang out
to us and the youngest
repeated in their dreams.

Above the windblown oaks
that raised banner arms
on the nearby slopes
crows harried a lone hawk.

Further out from dwellings
along the river that churned
into falls, the sweeping hills
bedded a sleeping giant.

This was land that gave us
a name and the old tales
from the very first day
before there was darkness.

And now we each await
for the coming nightfall
that shows where we will
return amidst the dusty stars.

editors note:

They live in our landscape, as will we… – mh clay

Black Rain

featured in the poetry forum April 11, 2023  :: 0 comments

clouds dissolve
after pretending
to be recognizable shapes

and the twilight
woods untended
fill with life

I heard
the wings singing
of dry shell insects

they emerged
slender, undressed
to leave their casings

the apples fallen
their compacted
lush smell floats

a snapped branch
cracks like a shot

the night has fliers,
glow worms
with pinpoint blinks

on a silken
web, still insects
we see die as a mercy

you sobbing
unbuttoning a
soaked shirt

and never find
where the children
we were are hiding.

editors note:

Still, we seek them in those old woods. – mh clay