Incidental solar flare
seeks easement
right of way
to use my being for incarnation
I acquiesce though it’s no small matter
these photons really are
quite lovely little bullets
of light massage
I emanate
rapture on a beam
I burn till I melt
till I liquefy
how splendid indeed
to be deity
© Chagall 2014
I experience me
like migraine
so I let go to seek relief
to still the incessant yap
floating atop
the knotted river
observing none
but the roil
© Chagall 2014
I volunteered
to instruct them to fish
Yet ended up somehow
reeling alone
© Chagall 2014
A kiss rips holes in lightning
and leaves burnt sugar behind
where we once stood
Long lived, we transcend the other
leapfrog our way to a lonely place
deep in cold space beyond the limit
jettisoned
in eternal smooth motions
© Chagall 2014
Heartache swells from below the heart
radiant concentric flutter
constant, lessening, or growing
intensity, makes its way up
the center of the chest, to touch the throat
lips then eyes, I cannot tell
through the mind to escape
vapor, wisps of could-have-been
loops back, mounts
again yet again
much like joy with a twist
not touching the extremities
just spirals to a void
© Chagall 2014
The gate on the garden is locked for now
Severely deficient of oxygen
Vertical drops of meltwater cascade
A place for rebel angels to unleash
Wrath, do damage to primary organs
Commonly formed when the river is young
God, are you there? Do you hear me calling?
A strong knee on my belly choking me
The watercourse races, pulling me down
While she ponders her reflection in glass
Blood flow ceases to the brain, thankfully
Over time carved deep, we recede upstream
To a fruitless and barren place we pass
© Chagall 2014
Still there atop
melted stone and metal
cooled to
odd design
lies the heart
of the spiraling galaxy
© Chagall 2014
I have worked hard to eliminate
that part of my personality
which causes me to see
any aspect of the world
through rose-colored glasses
I think life will be
phenomenal from hereon
© Chagall 2014
Clearly
opaque
odd
even
distant
touching
apparently
real
I’m
not
are
you?
© Chagall 2014
To fall is to lie in mid-air
waiting for the world
to float up
© Chagall 2014
Alphabet City 