The pan we needed was nine by fourteen;
she gazed then asked, That’s circle or oval?
© Chagall 2014
Archive for November, 2014
The question they posed
was given one cloth
would you wipe from
clean to dirt?
© Chagall 2014
They said in time all things would heal
still I journey to get out of time
I’m a scant glance askew sidled by its door
awaiting it to open
To slip stealthily through
at no time
© Chagall 2014
She panicked and said that the mix was too dry
I could tell she’d not worked many doughs
© Chagall 2014
You’d take me for a ride,
how I loved when you took me for a ride.
You saved me once,
I’ve savored your being,
when you loved me
it slips away you said –
how I loved when it didn’t slip away.
© Chagall 2014
Twice I watched her leave,
always the strange wisps vanished;
nothing to hold on.
© Chagall 2014
I found her shears in the garden today
though it’s years since she’s passed away;
I imagine she left them one morning
then nature took its course, consumed the pair.
Time unveiled them just now at this moment
in the mound of rocks we’d hill together,
tiny stone quarries nestled by the beds.
Strung Bougainvillea, tatted Queen Anne’s lace
grow through the handle loops about the blade,
whetted once, now too dull to pare the rose.
So petals and thorns need not be afraid
of falling prey to the anvil motions;
how I miss her steady hands, my twin soul.
© Chagall 2014
Twilight breeze considers the young gold flame,
with love proposes she release her heat.
The wind down on bended knee, vows to stay,
excites much sweeter but cold honeyed moons
© Chagall 2014
Just as song the words flow
in time, gating the sense.
To know is
in the making.
The interval is not known
until the second tone.
© Chagall 2014
In a dream, she calls to me from outside.
It’s just before the darkness settles in,
the final rays of sunlight still the trees,
the day retains its heat, promising night.
I open the window and wave to her,
this Juliet fair at my balcony,
gently nudge my body forward then down
floating slowly to the ground beside her.
Her face, beautifully lit, supernatural
in bold relief against the black empty.
She is so close, she eclipses the world;
as we meld we do not pass but are one.
I am her for the moment so I feel
the love for me I as she has for him,
turns us still deeper inward till again
there is no separation; there’s no need.
© Chagall 2014
Alphabet City 