There’s a draft we can ride
off the trees tonight
wavy spirals through
mid-air
Up we go and settle down
in meadow far from here
Where the world doesn’t stop
to spin long enough
to allow us to know
where we are
To a
point
we pretend
like we know
In it,
of it,
with it,
and through it
Bang a gong
if you’ve got one
© Chagall 2013
Lemon vaporous
crisp citrus tang licks the tongue
gobs of sweet meringue
© Chagall 2013
Those two
at the roadside
never cease to yap
She the handsome one
and she the beauty
A warm bubble
about them
Foggy morning
light grey-gold
sweet syrups
of seduction
I do listen
(after all
they’re me)
They point me
to the parade
I decide what we do
as long as there’s just
us three
Though sometimes she joins
a ravishing mystic
in indigo silk
Little else underneath
she trumps the pack
this forest mist being
But we always see
eye to eye
We promise each other
a truer day
We four
we adore
© Chagall 2013
For long exquisite time
bare-ass to the wall
keeping time
in sunny cut
glade
down a shady walk
straight at the cleft
where my Lady
keeps a trinket
a forget-me-not
perhaps
or a silver chain
knotted at fine times
to be pulled
ever so lightly
to escalate
on inhalation
unrehearsed
erotic
unrepentant
heroica
© Chagall 2013
Haiku seduction
gentle arrhythmic caress
kiss, blow it away
© Chagall 2013
If I was dead
I would smile down
Instead
I hug you
to let you know
Long live
the good life
So crisp
and tailored
Like
lemon kites
Crisp
blue winter
nights
Cardamon
ginger and garam
Green velour skirts
red tights
Tasseled
shoes for dance
Glide
on scuffed floors
Street-level studios
have large windows
They face out
to the sun
Today
wanes
Yet
everyone dances
Too familiar
the traffic around
The day goes
we know
The days go
we know
We go
with what we know
Day
after day
If I was dead
I would smile down
Instead
I hug you
to let you know
Long live
the good life
God, the good life’s
so good
P.S.
Thank you
for letting me know
You’d be home
later than norm
I will absolutely
misbehave in your absence
© Chagall 2013
Not sure if she said
our love-play should be
more aromatic
or acrobatic
so I’ve brought along both
sticks of incense
and a pommel horse
thinking better safe
than sorry
© Chagall 2013
I kneel in the field tonight
on cold dry grass
turned straw this late
near winter
The low winds blow by
oddly warm
sing more with a voice
than a whistle
With tales
of the woods surround
where fleet runners
tangle in bramble
detained
Wan moonlight anoints me
with a sword upon my shoulder
declares me a Lady
of magnificent beams
I am free to cross
because I am righteous
I am
a miracle of night
© Chagall 2013
Alphabet City 