High Tea

November 21, 2020  :: 0 comments

He awoke as General George Armstrong Custer. What’s more, he was in the thick of the fight. The Indian took stock. “It’s ironic,” he told himself, “but I’m General Custer.” Just then an arrow flew past his chin. The Indian as Custer looked around. He and his men were trapped! On the crest of a tree-less rounded hill! With hostile …

Dr. Richard Alpert (hippies mourn)

featured in the poetry forum October 23, 2020  :: 0 comments

It’s a twinkle
light catching
lost between
particle and sky
prism refraction
weaving gently
soft folds
that here
used to be now.

editors note:

Doc! Write us a prescription, a prophylactic to hold off now from then. – mh clay

Far Away In The Distant Land (a life in fruit and flour)

featured in the poetry forum December 4, 2019  :: 0 comments

One morning
my pancakes self-stacked
gobsmacked I held my syrup mid-pour
the blueberries in my pancakes
were coming alive!
The cakes plumped themselves
as if eagerly awaiting assault of my puritan fork,
then the blueberries worked their magic;
the cakes tipped on their sides and
rolled right off my plate!
I caught them at IHOP trying
to join the all-you-can-eat buffet!
Those pancakes. Trying to pass as restaurant-made!
I’ll never forget those cakes,
pancakes of the finest order;
blueberries bursting with juicy goodness,
free-thinking fruit dappled creations
with a mind of their own
went down screaming doused with butter.

editors note:

It’s syrup will squelch an insurgency on such a morning after. – mh clay

Bellicose Diatribe

November 23, 2019  :: 2 comments

The leaves were falling. Jim Jefferies drove about town and noticed trees getting thinner and winter drawing near. He thought of the plains Indians living in these parts. How cold they must have been and how cozy in a warm tepee. Population replacement must have been easy. He loved his hometown but times were tough, once again. He was cruising …

Nothing Is Best

featured in the poetry forum October 3, 2019  :: 0 comments

I discovered the lost cord
strung up
in Iowa coming to terms
with the thought of my
non-death chiming
at the fifteenth fret.

editors note:

Enough rope for a song. – mh clay

The Alley

June 30, 2019  :: 0 comments

The alley you’re walking down is dark. It is the back end of many dive bars, illuminated by the opening of back doors as some bartender takes out the garbage. The green of large, metal, rectangular, Industrial Waste Company trash containers lines the route. The smell is rancorous; a revulsion that immediately makes itself apparent. There are oily patches everywhere where …

No Biggie

featured in the poetry forum June 24, 2019  :: 0 comments

The beginning of now
was not a big deal
yet upon its passing
it had no real demise
now continued
with then
so they put them
together with
now and then
that’s just the way it is.

editors note:

“And” is ever enough for now… – mh clay

St. Vitus Dance

February 2, 2019  :: 0 comments

“The vegetables often leave their stalks. Yes, they go gallivanting about. Yeah, mostly at night. Oh, they are always back on the stalk, or vine, by morning. Why do you ask?” “Couple of veggies been acting up. On the west side of the garden.” “The west side? That’s where the eggplant, the aubergines, grow. And the green beans. Those horrible …

Beatin’ The Bishop (into submission)

featured in the poetry forum January 20, 2019  :: 0 comments

once in a while
in life
you gotta
put away all the
sharp objects
the guns and knives
lock the door
turn off the lights
light the candles
get the snacks
smoke the bong hits
kick back
watch retro T.V.
To remember
where and
you were (and her)
and enjoy some
really good shows.

editors note:

A good show. If you can’t be one, then might’s well see one. – mh clay