Someone sat
an old hippie lamp
To rotate
on the fire escape
Blurred sea horses
overtook Avenue B
All
a-glitter
On a cold
pastel noir
I still thank you
for the blankets
And for the lamp . . .
© Chagall 2013
Archive for November, 2013
I always write better
with my green sneakers on.
Sometimes I look better
in a fez.
Often I chill
under stars.
Rarely do I miss
solar flare.
© Chagall 2013
Contrary to popular belief
there is no collective
against my best intuition
there’s no I
despite what you think
thin air
where the pied balloons
of lost children
rise
the only thing
that’s real
© Chagall 2013
The light’s as important
as the words
can make it all
timeless
outside
every pulse
forever
in an instant
the very first
and only kisses
spliced all
together
lost
on a reel.
© Chagall 2013
All the light
I see tonight
is yours.
Moon crazy
scrolled shadows
by the fence.
Every glint –
each specular hint
– I attribute to you.
You remind dark earth
of past days,
you reflect the sun.
© Chagall 2013
It’s still daylight
at the very tops
of the trees
up there
aerie still
remember the day
golden
on the ride down
it’s more night
the closer one
gets to the ground
at root the earth
gives up aroma
in warm loam
and fireflies lift-off
rendezvous flights
for the night
Mother Earth
please tuck us all
away safe
Won’t you bury me in
dry leaves?
© Chagall 2013
I can only marvel
at the passing
of time
To think
that I once
stood there
© Chagall 2013
Indefinitely is how
I’d describe
just how long
I’ll be taking it easy.
Not a care
in the world.
Nothing but time
sugar-water
jolting
cold and sweet.
Bubble
effervescent
so bracing.
I will go to bed late
but get up early
and simply enjoy
my life.
© Chagall 2013
My love and I grew
a small bed of chives
not big,
about so by so.
In autumn
we cut down the heads,
pressed them
into bags
and realized
we had enough seed
to essentially
feed the planet.
© Chagall 2013
There are places to go
but we don’t go
and so
we wonder
better air there
but we really don’t
care
inhale
and pray
we and the eagle
make three
still the sea’s
too wide
for everyday travel
There are places to go
but we really don’t go
So that’s why
we wonder
© Chagall 2013
Alphabet City 