Sugar Maple

featured in the poetry forum February 1, 2015  :: 0 comments

Dead things
are merely things
ready to be new
Sugar Maple, winter is becoming to you
your bare bones reaching past chilled skies
tall and immovable
Changeable statue of the earth,
you throw your leaves off like they are timeless
And they are!
cracked yellow and browning
decaying, integrating into January mud
becoming, once again, the wholesome sheath
you spread your rooted legs beneath
Sugar Maple, you are so close to death
and yet you breathe
fearless in the frost
you wither, naked
yet you are crystalline in the crusting of snow
A halo of sunlight and wisdom surrounds you
an untouchable glory
You are a god among bush and beast
Ancient and undisturbed by the inevitable
decease and recreation of things –
All things that pass

editors note:

A mad mandala; bitter and sweet! – mh

Purple Laughter

featured in the poetry forum October 15, 2014  :: 0 comments

Laughter doesn’t need to be purple,
xxxbut purple is a mysterious, open and noble color

In purple, I cannot always see the reasons
xxxmy actions are propelled by a quiet intuition
xxxxxxmoved not by logic or inquisition
No Hesitation —
xxxonly movement

Stepping beyond the comfortable confines of familiarity
xxxallowing my serendipitous feet to guide me, purple
I will not always know if I am headed in the right direction
xxxbut I can always be certain that the path is never wrong

xxxonly movement

editors note:

Color your path with a purple laugh; wrong, right, resounding! – mh

The Action of God

featured in the poetry forum May 29, 2014  :: 0 comments

Buckminster Fuller knew the Action of God
Slight stirring in the ether
chain reaction to organism
The movement to Life
Time warped to
cradle us, all oblivious Cosmic Material
The noun of god is irrelevant
God Only Became

He knew the Action of Men
Deep shudder in the body
chain reaction to orgasm
The movement to Life
Pussies are portals and
we all ride in on the same Cosmic Jiz
The noun of man is irrelevant
Man Only Came

editors note:

This is the thrust of it, yes! – mh


featured in the poetry forum March 9, 2014  :: 0 comments

There’s no electricity in Kathmandu city
Sitting with the woman who cleans monasteries
Silver-throated by embers
Endowed from that cackling stove
The rain is of a poet’s dream
Dashing at the window sill
She sits still
Tongue knotted, inquisitive
Pranayama inhales
I walked along these hills
Lit by quarter moon
Dark stars and the wind is chaos
Caked with wet dust
I arrived here
For milk tea refuge
Native café we share in
Papaya conversations
No dialect pertaining to comprehension
Just relating
As men chuckle, conspicuous
Women fry eggs, coy and curious
I, silent, sip this tea
She takes her peek at me
I speak erroneously
They love it

editors note:

A typical day in this poet’s neighborhood. We love it, too! – mh