I cannot do the splits

featured in the poetry forum August 15, 2015  :: 0 comments

the way blonde cheerleaders
in mini-skirts land hard,
slap both thighs at mid-court —

one leg out front, straight,
the other stretched back,
toes pointed, everything taut —

bounce back to their feet,
cartwheel around, five times
or four. Hope, however,

does leap up, seek bright sky,
gain height, write a love poem
on damp parchment, in Greek,

before coming down, janitor
once more, still dreamy,
to mop the gym floor.

editors note:

Me neither, not without traction and painkillers. Let’s write poetry and keep the mops handy. – mh clay

Hooking black sky

featured in the poetry forum March 17, 2015  :: 0 comments

Sunset dollops fuchsia glaze along the bay
where city sludge oozes toward surf,

life contrasted on sand in the setting.
Light, like hope, refuses to die,

tosses up some gold as a one-armed mime
tries to hook black sky nearby.

editors note:

What mime makes into motion, poet twists into twilight transitions. Picture perfect! (Read another one from Tim on his page. What Lincoln would do with Twitter – Check it out!) – mh

The Gettysburg tweet

March 17, 2015  :: 0 comments

years back
ol dads got free
now big fite 2 endure
time out here
we cant equal th dead
so forget us
blah blah devotion
give it up 4 democracy

One-mime town

October 11, 2014  :: 0 comments

In Boulder, Missoula, Santa Fe —
not Shiloh, Duluth, Butte, Dubuque —

mimes blow up clear balloons,
draw back bows, take aim,

let feral boomerang arrows go,
belly-crawl out whitewashed holes,

fall three floors, mouth screams to crowd,
become carpool-tunnel-syndrome clowns

driving up imagined waterfalls, not down.
Mimes abandoned in darkened towns

pray alone in some strip-mall church
then plunge to death off a pew-side curb.

Dregs

featured in the poetry forum October 11, 2014  :: 0 comments

Spread out Syrah noir wide, slide up
wine glass side, stick in patterns

to the edge, like leftover phrases, words
lining the darkened bottom

of a writing drawer. Try to read
some kind of future in the tailings,

see a story finally written,
were there light enough, or life,

or snowy woods, or hawks
finding wind to soar and dive.

Well, maybe one more glass,
no past, no looking back,

a bottle, two, alone, black sky,
hope the only ending, no you.

editors note:

Vivisect vintage from vine; vie for existence or drain to the dregs. (More madness from Timothy, a silent move, on his page – watch it now.) – mh

Gestapo glaciers

featured in the poetry forum June 1, 2014  :: 0 comments

Like climate change,
they did not come quickly
but were relentless and ruthless,
nonetheless — with their share

of disbelievers, along with those
who saw beauty in the way

they inched over lives with ice.

editors note:

Such artistic expression, if not stopped, slowly stifles all other. Some rights are just wrong! – mh

Mercy-killing marriage

January 8, 2014  :: 0 comments

Avoid a taxable event. Keep iPad,
laptop, diamond rings.

Give her Kindle, china, SUV —
silver, vintage albums,

especially Sting. Take dog, boat,
football seats. Yield lakeside home,

mountain cottage, beach retreat.
Keep condo, IRA, hidden gold.

Share children, friends — yes,
makes it equal, even neat.

You pay her health club dues;
she pays your attorney’s fee.

Yes, yes, oh, yes

featured in the poetry forum January 8, 2014  :: 0 comments

At night she walks her restless cat
on leather leash down black streets

then back, past motels, clubs, shacks,
lets it prowl nighttime sounds —

rat scratch, dog growl, piss splash,
drunk words slurred, slow drum beat,

lover’s moan, a few high screams.

editors note:

A stroll to steal the feline’s senses; it’s cat burglary. – mh

Minoan moment

featured in the poetry forum August 20, 2013  :: 0 comments

Crete, summer, sun, beach,
blondes near concession tent
ignore heat, debate bikinied

breast to breast. Hot sand
burning feet, they fidget,
shift weight, wipe away sweat

as each lays out her version
of a man-free world.
Points made shushed, not loud,

first one, then the other, turns,
pulls damp bottom loose
from cheeks burned bright,

sways slowly to her towel,
sexy stroll the important thing.
Vendor guy grins, spits,

tongs up another dog,
so red, so juicy,
so big it splits.

editors note:

Stay in line, or don’t. Either way, summer’s gonna bring us some fresh red hots. – mh

Dashboard savior

featured in the poetry forum July 8, 2012  :: 0 comments

Just a glimpse — quick flash really.
swishing past next to a hula girl,
grass skirt swirling gold, green.

Downtown Bellingham street,
Cornwall, road running out
by Assumption Catholic Church,

near that purple place
where all the peaceniks meet —
Wondered briefly if Second Coming

is capitalized — likely, yes,
because it would be important.
In a ’69 Camaro, I think,

not something you would drive
to reach a mountain lake.
Anyway, saw him fly by, upright,

hands in prayer, eyes blue, bright,
glued tight to the dashboard,
not about to go anywhere.

editors note:

If Second Coming is capitalized, then Apocalypse must be a parenthesis. – mh