I have my
half written poems
I have this blue window
to look through
when I’m lonely
I ignore its
invitation
I sit on this bed
like it’s the edge
of the world
the white sheets
sleep behind me
like restless angels
I scribble words
I call it poetry
I write the word
love in black ink
and the walls
become irritable
deep blue shadows
swallow my room
of souvenirs
I want to hear the
sound of violins
I want to hear the
sadness in your voice
become clear
I need a pleasant dream
I need something solid
to lean upon
I need something to
sooth these
shaking hands …
Clay.M

As I search this anxious city for
something pure something good
I carry a hundred heavy dreams
I don’t mind when the sadness hits
see I’ve been drinking with the poets
they follow me down every street
I rest beneath the crayon blue sky
I see my heroes scratching their
bellies behind the sun
I see the threads of my mothers
summer dress I see the ghost of her
flying like a painted bird
I try to hold her like a secret
I untangle this mind of loose strings
maybe if I remain silent I’ll become
obsolete maybe if I write words that
are worth remembering I’ll feel complete
I listen to the wind whispering apologies
maybe they can sell my dreams in the
market place with the cattle and the
rattling of chains I think about quite rooms with naked shadows in every lonely corner I think about small birds crying out for the crumbs of your love and if you can hear me I wish that you knew me
when I was still kind …
Clay.M

Your poetry is so
pure so unique
you never let
sadness stand
in your way
you hold onto hope
like it means something
I want to break into
your golden thoughts
where honesty and
your secrets meet
your words hide
between the lips of
a lovers kiss
there is blackness
across the sky
I underline the stories
that fill your eyes
everything moves
away eventually
and you know how
I hate goodbyes …
Clay.M

The first sign of
daylight dissolved
my good intentions
nothing at all
seamed to shine
every thought fell
into dark water
the sun was
painted grey
my dreams were cold
as distant mountains
and when the death
Lillie's bloom from your
lonely heart and your
love only hears
the cello cry
when your angel walks
with wings of stone
and your daffodils
want to die
meet me here
beneath the
gun metal sky
and you know
everything will
be just fine
follow me
we’ll walk away
our sadness
in the rain …
Clay.M

I sleep into the
late afternoon
I open the window
to smell the rain
I watch the winter
trees undress
I wait for the storm …
Clay.M

When the sky is
dressed in midnight stars
and my mind is heavy
with questions
I let these tiny dreams
spill between the blinking
lights of the city
I know words sound
better at night
when the silent stars
cloud the sky of every
lonely hunter
I read the old poets
the teachers of
sorrowful things
I know she is here
I see her smile through
the dusty light
I am high enough
to see the ugly
side of heaven
I am high enough to
feel insignificant
and if I happen to fall
from this great height
how soon will I be
forgotten …
Clay.M

I wake up early
with this poem in my pocket
and the sound of the sea
my arms stretched out
across a crimson sky
the sun rise of
untouchable love
I catch my
invisible breath
I see you smile only
in my memory
the waves of emotion
are reaching out for a
soft place to land
as the wild flowers bloom
in an open field of a
thousand sleeping wishes
I miss what I
decided to destroy
when the spring wind screams
at this world of broken dreams
I search for level ground …
Clay.M