I am intrigued by how blizzard snow removes reverb from the world
how your voice carries urgent presence atop cold flat air
Chagall 2016
Archive for January, 2016
I knew it would fit
Peanut butter and jelly
Every bite haiku
Chagall 2016
It takes a village of knives
to make a great sandwich.
Chagall 2016
Shirt out
a lot o’rolls
tucked in
different but better
rolls go away
now just a matter of
contour
Chagall 2016
I learned today of
simulacra, kitschy cushy things
illusory being neither
here
nor there
ironic
rediscovery
post-modern (post-modern)
anyone hear that Eco?
Chagall 2016
Humanity is the joy
we bring to those
one degree
of separation
away.
Chagall 2016
Some have laughed
though Inuits espy
the sun doesn’t rise
where it used to
They claim
polar bears
are burning
Through the center
we point now
to different stars
(a more distant spot
in heaven)
They can
no longer
say if tomorrow
will rain
Chagall 2016
I’ve reshaped the constellations
to reflect what I see
I have no interest in
how others see heaven
Makes it so easy
to now know the sky
Chagall 2015
I only have a moment to tell you that
today the air was more electric than before and
the beauty of existence at large is so overwhelming that
I feel alive from my belly up into my neck then
something odd happens in my face and mind
I want desperately to cry, to weep at the wonderful
creatures that are all about, these colors of all senses
How do I tell you all of that in
this our only moment?
Chagall 2016
Somewhat odd occurrence this morning. Yet another example of poets in my Reader writing today about stars. This wonderful post from Literature Is My Porn. Synchronicity? —Carlos
I dip my pen
In the inky black sky
And, watch, mesmerised
As stars burst out
Of the nib
Aligning themselves
Into a mass
Of constellations
As I put my pen
To paper.
-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore
Alphabet City 