I’m sorry I have not paid a call
the weather’s been harsh and what with
time on the march
and all
All send their love
as they did that last day
Days we set out
in search of the heart,
so much good in the world, we’d thought
Expect we will see each other
soon
After all, dear Sara
is far too long
© Chagall 2014
Faces come unglued and leave
behind light and vibration.
© Chagall 2014
My toothbrush has
tons of crud in its cracks
need something bristly
to get up in there . . .
© Chagall 2014
Long ago but not long from now
till time passes away, we’ll hold and we’ll sway
in our special step;
where did they find so much tinsel?
Beneath a drizzle of ticker-tape mixed with rain,
I think lips taste, well . . .
very nice.
In our race down mountains, I often feared that you’d fall
and I’d tend to you in clearings, healing poultice and wrappings.
At the base of a timeless place, so sheer in its rise that up becomes down
before we know it, and we’ve lost more than merely a glimpse in the knowing.
Promise that we will always let one another
down softly.
© Chagall 2014
Starred skies lift hope’s eyes
heavenward, the path obscured
all in God’s hands now
© Chagall 2014
Yesterday was his birthday
and we would have celebrated
had he still been here.
© Chagall 2014
Mother Earth,
can’t you deal them a blow
who’d destroy your wondrous magic?
Precarious and balanced
from the spin to the tilt
and the yaw
you delicious blue ball
o’ mine
© Chagall 2014
My neighbor’s light shines through the dense trees
between us, feathery pine branches diffract the beam
so holy such that there in the woods,
revealed now and then by the wind,
the star of Bethlehem floats,
a cross blurred gold casts frigid glow
across fields of ice, cold-blue
in the wane of yesterday’s moonlight.
© Chagall 2014
Birds frozen in snow
hearts stained by valiant mercies
Spring thaw breathes new life
© Chagall 2014
I perch on a branch
rather than hoods
where rain water beads on the high
gloss of hand-buffed wax
unlike the low luster of eyes
strung about the necks of remorseless
and trill
nay, lilt
springs aid suspension of disbelief
prevalent these days
any tight burrow will do in a pinch
aligned contrary to twilight
abstaining from pleasures because
I choose to indulge
in heartbreak, because I can
with little time to weigh
eons on either side
not certain of come and go, gone and went
truth or status quo
yet
my money’s on the money, the surest thing
since sentience, the sweetest element
is not uranium; to the ghosts of Princeton: natty wool on the catwalk
hooping hulas ’round the nuclei, I eye the errant
confuse disdain for ardor
I approximate the distance between two hearts to be
greater than the sum of the moment
mailboxes crammed with dead letters postmarked
insufficient, due only what’s coming
raise stained white flags in tie-dye surrender
patchouli and hemp
rise early and often till the last
but spontaneous now, how herculean then
to breathe
then so vague;
not long now,
just a few more notes
till the coda
© Chagall 2014
Alphabet City 