Looks like everyone is writing about stars today. This from Rising Hawk. —Carlos
Archive for January, 2016
Woke up today and wrote a poem about stargazing, then went to my reader and found this wonderful poem from tychogirl on stargazing. Synchronicity at play, I’m certain. —Carlos
If I die in the desert after stargazing
know that it was enough, that final view
of stars frozen in their movements
like Van Gogh’s crows
standing out
above the wheatfield
know that I took it in
all at once just as I always did
with stars
a feast
sated.
short
star gazers
long
a
lot
like
the
tall
ones
or are they just farther away?
Chagall 2016
So subtle this thing called language
rears its head above tangled perception
discernible froth we skim cerebral
I prefer raw more sensuous groping
meaningful wordless visceral stew
the lasting poems of impulse
Chagall 2015
The cord
lacks rip
The lash
racks whip
The stick
licks lip
The joy
lacks kill
the vibe
They always do
Chagall 2016
Here.
Is.
The end.
Chagall 2016
I hold my head
I move my hands
sculpted fingers
In poised asymmetry
I trace rotations
about my core
I am the orbits
of moon around earth
around sun
I am
polyrhythm
Chagall 2015
here where there
is no
rip cord
nor zip line
i howl full bore
lost at the timberline
here where the air
is thin unseen
creatures scurry
i can
hear where they’re
hidden
lit towns
below me beckon
there where her
heart lies
there where there’s
no rest for the weary no
rest for the weary
no rest i remain
here where there’s
dark where i am the heir
apparent to invisible matter
Chagall 2016
Delicate is
perhaps
too indelicate
a word for what
i have in mind
it’s much more
misted
nuanced
unveiled
expelled air
barely emerged
ex nihilo
create
state
change
transition
the question:
who you are?
Chagall 2016
Alphabet City 