A word, a blank page no more;
this is where couplets end.
From hereon in
strange waters.
The next view must speak louder
than nothing – if not, why bother?
Pictures are an option
just not here.
Help me to pluck ideas
from all these implicit ellipses.
Chagall 2016
When I am tired but inspired
I turn minimalism
Chagall 2015
I have memories
of being in echelon
which means that at one time
I must have flown
I can feel
where wings connected
between biceps and pectorals
the backward sweep of deltoids
to where flight would have taken hold
like a clamp
we hang low in the pocket in the rush of fresh air
hundreds of feet high in a V across calibrated
stagger as if random we bank in a frolic
as one gaining air on the others steep turns
tightly so much torque but our bodies are made
for bending flexing near breaking
Our hearts are different
not so resilient, they snap
because they’re unforgiving
Chagall 2016
. . . Hello? . . .
Will I be jumping
into the light now?
Anybody?
I would like to be
the next one to jump!
. . . hello? . . .
Chagall 2016
Too much optimism is cloying
while actuality is not quite as stark
as the realists might think
There is truth in the ground
but one needs to make figure
go away to see dark matter
The two profiles are the urn
a kiss creates then spills an ewer of honey
making for sticky back and fore grounds
Your aroma is metal, flinty
yet underneath sweet like talc
provoked aflame you are caramel
Stretched, kept in contact too long we fuse
the undersides along the length of our arms
our bellies plus our thighs adhere
Erasing the lines that define us
we become amorphous form with shading
Chagall 2016
Have you considered recently
refurbishing your haberdashery
or buying a brand-new commode, maybe armoire?
Some words must be paired
as fine wines vis-à-vis
fish or chicken.
Grassy, picked too young –
this one’s a hint of chocolate.
Barring any unforeseen outcomes
I’ll bet the barista falls madly in love
long before we reach five stanzas.
Chagall 2016
I remember now as a child
the sense of falling
Not down on my knees
but plummeting
Earth was falling, hurtling through space
and I was attached to the Earth
My Mother held me tight
while the wind tunneled about us
though stars receded, secure I grew
to ignore the fall
I remember now as a child
that sense of falling
Chagall 2016
They tell me that to live
you need full sunlight
So I gather you up, I take you
room to room
In winter too we search for light
east to west on a slight deep arc
we’re pitched more shallow
Where nurture is wan
we work harder for more
Time sometimes casts no shadow
I’ve found from time to time
yet I always feel I’m walking
beneath something
What is that thing
we’re walking under?
Full sunlight means there’s little time
for spending shadows if one’s to live
so let’s live it
find light in every darkness around
by doing so you will become light
by doing so you become light
by doing so become light
by doing so – light
intense
beautiful
reflective
sentient
being
Chagall 2015
No rattle less hum –
breathless longer than planned
she glides with the softest
of leads less than air really
Les couloirs
she says pointing, excites many meanings
She knows I pretend I’m unsure
that I’ve heard her correctly
Chagall 2016
Words are the distance
from the sensate in my mind now in yours
Across the miles postmarked
whispers in a letterbox
I will shake you healingly
but maybe not lovingly
Listen – grab that
it’s a tale of umbilical proportions
I imagine that clay works
very much the same way
Chagall 2016
Alphabet City 