spiders
are tiny
fishermen
bug-fishing
on the wind
Chagall 2019
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mellow and earthy, she brought diffusion
to the light about her
Chagall 2019
Stroke me, pulse me away,
draw it out on your fingertips,
vindicate my being
Evoke, cause me to emote,
to throb, to pulsate sine-like
An electric barb, a spark
in the night eclipses twilight
Bite my lips, draw blood,
pinpoints to rivulets,
my heart as your amulet
Among the softest things
consider the kiss
The prelude,
this moment
Chagall 2019
In time I lost interest in the pick, the plectrum,
and began instead to strum life with bare hands
Chagall 2019
Any scuttlebutt about the subtle bustle,
here-say – yay or nay – any word?
Pssst
from my mouth to open ears,
here’s what I hear…
Chagall 2019
in the morning
i check in with my
mesophilic-yogurt-cultures,
bid them good day
early afternoon sometimes
i get high-go to the garden
pick pole-beans in the sun
dear child, at night i pray for your happiness
much-much-more than my own
Chagall 2019
I lie long ‘cross the bed’s diagonal
when there are short sheets,
lest my feet freeze
from the ankle
down
Chagall 2019
wires strung along the road atop wooden poles
follow the rise and run of the land for miles
in either direction
no houses, trees or shrubs anywhere, just gray
pavement snaking, unlined, unmarked,
the delicious smell of hot asphalt
people are talking on those wires, loved ones
near and far exchanging news and hopes
for a bygone day
darkness settles in along with the cicadas’ song,
cooler air prevails while starlight winks
behind thin cloud wisps
everywhere, everything falls,
helpless, in search of a gust,
an updraft
Chagall 2019
And when she passed, I ate her peach pie
for a day or two, and marveled over her
ever having been
Chagall 2019
Yesterday I experienced sexual release of such great intensity
that I think it actually corrected a back problem I’d been having
for the past 20 years.
Chagall 2019
