That which is unspeakable
indeed is the perfect poem.
© Chagall 2015
Archive for March, 2015
Afloat social nets
We value cold illusion
Compressed in our shells
© Chagall 2015
Listen to that silence
how it drowns out the sound
of rain, each droplet lost
forever in its din.
© Chagall 2015
I miss how as a child
I’d wake up afraid of the dark
Convinced that something was out there
© Chagall 2015
I am not Carlos
nor am I the person
who pretends to be
Carlos. She is not
me, I tell myself
I’m not like her,
of the haunting grin,
with seeming knowledge
of my delicate whispers,
scribed by her spectral hand.
© Chagall 2015
March 14, 2015, 9:26 and 53 seconds, a.m. and p.m.,
pi will be represented to 10 digits: 3.141592653.
Bah! I say. Why stop at mere seconds? Let’s decompose further
Beyond to deci centi milli micro nano pico femto atto zepto yocto
Sub-divisions of seconds, touch all of pi’s digits: infinity resides in the moment
© Chagall 2015
She told me half the time she doesn’t listen
I told her that’s OK since the other half
I don’t say things she thinks she hears
© Chagall 2015
Irrepressible
This urge to keep on breathing
Yet another day
© Chagall 2015
I was shocked by how both her breasts had shrunk
Till I realized I was rubbing her back.
© Chagall 2015
Dots imitate light
Dead pointillists’ impressions
Days she’d fade away
© Chagall 2015
Alphabet City 