Latest Entries »


The sounds of night
linger and stray
into morning

This is not
real light
I’m aware

Too faded
too bright

Too soon
the day

The day

Time slows

I enumerate
each passing

One by

I am lost
in implicate order

of my own design

© Chagall 2016

The Message

My mother comes to me
in dreams

I ask
Where are you, Mom?

she says Heaven

Relieved, I ask
Are you happy, Mom?

She dips her hand in a shallow pool
the water cascades from her palm down her arm

she nods then adds
Though everyone here is starving

© Chagall 2016

Let There Be

The universe is staging
a trillion-photon march on creation
to show us how solidarity’s done

Anywhere that light is
that’s where you’ll find me

© Chagall 2016

Soothing Salve (A Play in 3 Acts)

Warning: Must be 10 years of age or older to read this post

Act 1
Kneed in the balls.

Act 2
Need in the balls.

Act 3
Kneading the balls.

Coming soon: If sands or butts

© Chagall 2016

Morning Nocturne

Consider that
there is
no God

All birds sing
of their own

a sadder tune

There is
no echo
nor refrain

No joyous

A lonely lilt
on empty branch

© Chagall 2016

Running in 2020

Politics and greed aside.
Isn’t solving world hunger
merely a logistics problem?

© Chagall 2016

I approximate the distance between two hearts
to be more than the sum of this moment less certain

And the hand that one feels in the night is mere specter,
lugubrious playful phantasmagoria

Morning used to  bring hope that perished at midday
midway to evening whispers of vespers

It will sometimes slip away, she said

It will always fade away

© Chagall 2016

Haiku for Crisper Morning

Red turns paler pink
The art of dying zinnia
Bids us promised spring

© Chagall 2016

Oh, regarding life . . .

Everyone doesn’t
not matter.

© Chagall 2016

the gladiators took a knee and
threw up power-salutes

a statement for whom?

the wind at lambeau field blows
cold through empty stands

no one came that sunday

liberty has better things
to do

© Chagall 2016


%d bloggers like this: