In the glow of distant
lights, in the tangled
mess of all that is
unreachable, I listen
to the shooting stars
I am deafened by the
hum of sad melodies,
I see the half moon
swing in the shadow
of a broken heart, I will
go to places where drunk
poets are wrapped in smoke
and absurd isolation,
where women dance with
painted smiles and blue fire
and call it love, I will go to
places where silence fills
the air with beautiful stories,
I will go where madness
is too afraid to follow …
Clay.M

I will meet you
where the sunlight
sleeps upon the
white mountains
where the birds
circle the sky like
angels of innocence
and as you pass
through stubborn
villages that keep
ancient secrets
locked in their hearts
listen carefully to the
echo of their poetry
all will become clear
and our destination
will be necessary
we will find the moon
hiding behind clouds
like a shy child
and as the cold wind
bites at our lips
our words will
fall into purity ...
Clay.M

I want to grow old
and die in the sun,
I want to walk through
a lush vineyard with
plump ripe fruit,
I want to lie beside a
river listening to small
birds doing small bird
things, I want to watch
marshmallow clouds
pass beneath a happy
blue sky. Don’t lay me
down on some
unsympathetic bed,
where my mind will
become stagnant, where
fond memories will fade
into the obscenities of
old age. Wrap me up in
the arms of my love,
send us way out into the
splendid sea, let the salty
air caress our skin, let the
waves wash over our
crippled bodies, let us
remember when we were
wide eyed and beautiful
so - innocent
so - young …
Clay.M

Now that you are here
with your bracelets and
your chains, now that you
are here with your gypsy
cards and your secret charts,
now that you are here with
your waves of midnight hair
and collection of fallen stars.
I have seen a carnival of
******, I have seen corridors
of wasted lives. Now I hide
in the mountains with my
hatred and my hunting knife,
now I hide in the mountains
with my wild eyes and my
books about the wilderness …
Clay.M

I feel safe here
above the clouds
with my small collection
of shimmering stars
all the ghosts
look like angels
they tell me the
****** details of their
forbidden lust and
how they float just
above the violent sea to
feel the torture of its touch
I am happy in this space
with my poetry and my
confused desire
by your silence
I know that you are near …
Clay.M