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I am awash in
incidental oregano.

© Chagall ∞

Eternal bright light
Her soliloquy honey
Evergreen deep rain

© Chagall ∞

 

Sandy Stars

The crisp scent of the mint keeps the pinks at bay
For want of a softer light I pray for rain
In vain since time in memorial less a mountain
Than a collage of sleepily filtered photos
The sand polishes both our bodies I have
Never felt more alive than now
Tickled in ocean spray
Under this moonlight
A splice in the dark
Your breathing takes me
Vague sculpted feet
In the wet beach
Silken sexy surf
Rolls on silica
Diamonds on black
As stars go so suns
Whether night or day
To where you are
Light years so far
Yet so finely lit constellate away
Bodies alive of so many colors
The delicious warmth of white foamy water washes over my feet
In the pitch darkness your breath cooler on my neck
Suddenly reminds my that sky is boundless
Much bluer by day hotter in need of rain
Pepper or spearmint oil
To keep the pinks at bay

© Chagall ∞

Bigger than Bubbles

I was confused by her leaving, thought it instead
the roar of the ocean or the fall of the sky

She made the waves rise for she is the water
upon You I played splashingly wonderful, once when young

Earth ends, sky reigns, there on the thin line
where I’ve tiptoed appearing nimbly soon after sunset

She in my arms, her hair a cascade over low-flying clouds
some nimbus of sorts bringing aqua-aqua to the world

In calm repose we align constellate, symbolic of who we are
on the grander scale, she so poised to take a single step

Into deeper heavens I gaze awaiting the faintest sound of a thunderous clap
signifying everything coincident with her return, aromatic escorts

With her gone comes impenetrable ground where once she was figure,
her form as empty in its definition as once it was a blossom

I bounce, a balloon on a ceiling in celestial updraft, peering,
waiting, bobbing

© Chagall ∞

The Sefirot

Same bug’s been on the screen for hours now
basking in sun luxuriant as I.  I no longer
desire to swat You with my towel
for we are one.

© Chagall ∞

I’ve found that if you want a certain type of ground cover to flourish
you needn’t wholly eradicate its competition but just enough to give an edge.

© Chagall ∞

Alphabet City

She searches for sea shells, slowly combs sands,
then wades out waist-high; the surf erases
yesterdays’ traces, and less is no more.
She (it’s just she) is shucking shells by the shore.

© Chagall ∞

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15 Seconds

With only the ordinary
we shape new lie to the land,
extraordinary contour upon which
to dwell and to set our roots
at odd angles to the rise that marks
the divide no longer,

the apropos
no longer becoming rather been,
is seemingly all the rage these days
or are you missing the drift? The rift is
the riff, like the rose was once.

Look at me I’m streaming!

A
lilt,
a
lull-
a-
bye.

© Chagall ∞

Confidante

You
the final ray of
sun on her face

Tell me,
did she lower her eyes and
were her cheeks flushed?

© Chagall ∞

She’s a circling gull and
I am a flash among shoals.
She swoops me up and
then she releases
for I am not what she seeks.
I wash away once more to be beached
yet again on the sand down the shore
amid shells and kelp, content atop smooth
sunbaked eroded rock.

© Chagall ∞

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