Poem – Clone

What happens when reality gets it wrong?
Our mind’s eye feeds us truth while
we lay our heads at night, rewinding the play.

Wear the boots with memories into the woods,
where you’ll go to find a piece of wind to ask
about the clouds surrounding the inside
of your skull; placed their by a shinning
smile of a clone.

The unseen piece of wind
carries with it more reality
than any repeating, and brilliant,
performing smile of an imitation.

-M. Taggart

poem – open

Most of the people who walked by him looked happy.
He was curious about why and about how they were
so effortlessly happy without knowing they were.
One woman even laughed, her head raised slightly,
and her eyes shined as her fingers slid her
red hair behind her ear. She and her friend seemed to be
floating as they passed by while he studied their well-being.
The bench he was sitting on felt empty. He wanted to feel full and alive
and to feel and be like the two happy women without having to
study how to be anything at all, but he didn’t know how. Even the sun
shinning down seemed to brighten everyone’s hue, but he felt none of this;
he could only see it and he knew it wasn’t for him. He wondered if anyone
noticed him; his emptiness he was trying to cure while living. He closed
his eyes and hoped when he opened them again he would feel differently.
He decided he would count to his favorite number.

-M. Taggart

Thanks for reading!

My Published Work:


Submission Roller Coaster Ride

I’m gearing up to submit to a large publication.
It’s nerve racking.

I’m guessing
anyone who has done this,
has experienced some range of emotions.

Is the content correct for the publication?
Is my work good enough?

Am I?

Shit. They want a cover letter.
not just a simple bio
they even want a list of
where I’ve been published

Make more coffee.
Sit, relax, drink too much coffee.

Time drips on
and somehow a few days too

And I keep picking more important
items to complete

I hate when I lie to myself

-M. Taggart


ps, Wish me luck.

Poem – My Secret

I have a two-hour block of time
to write

Which is an immense amount of time
for me to do any one thing
without disruption

I don’t know if I want to write
about nothing
or a leaf

Both of which fit my mindset

Much like the thought of infinity
fitting into droplets of thought
which I place into a bottle
with no bottom

I won’t, however, describe
what it is about the construct
of a leaf or the amount
of nothing

Those are mine

-M. Taggart


Here! Read my short story, Only. Just. Here. published in America’s Emerging Horror Writers- East Region, by Z Publishing House. There are fifteen short stories in the book and I found all of them to be entertaining.

America's Emerging Horror Writers: East Region