Lost high atop clouds
Below rich colored soils
Rock, sand, silt, and clay
Angular, blocky
Mother’s rich in organics
Endless horizons
Infiltrate the ground
Seep red from leaching iron
More dense than porous
Root to me firmly
Here in the space of no air
Within the solid
© Chagall ∞
Took naught but a moment to realize
twas soap and not saline
© Chagall ∞
How subtle are these symbols, to clinch or to clench,
both embrace, one the certainty of winning, the other
holds tight to imminent loss, to quench, bring cooling
liquid, healing balm, through tight canals to affliction,
immersion in ice, or steam, infinite horizons of water,
too quiet, to hush someone lovingly with finger upon lips
shushing air.
© Chagall ∞
Here at the center of all creation, light must pass
through me to arrive on the other side
© Chagall ∞
I pour water into the earth to watch it dissipate and percolate,
wondering where does the time go. The backs of my beach shoes
worn flat from my habit of not slipping in all the way,
my bare feet on warmed wood slats tell me I’m more alive now,
the sun underfoot, I am square, balanced atop the regolith,
a planet that spins and falls amid a din that I no longer hear,
the world that I see
as I follow the fan of my hand, implies all that there is
or nothing, depending solely on who I am, or no one.
© Chagall ∞
Don’t look at me.
© Chagall ∞
Which way do you read – up or down
How do you smile, like this or …
Kiss is universal, yes? Or do you vary
your pucker slightly
© Chagall ∞
I cup strawberries in my hand under a stream of freezing water
The sun’s heat, stubborn at first, relents and leaves the fruit
© Chagall ∞
I find my rightful place on the pin, thanks to the grace
of a million dancing angels
© Chagall ∞
HOW COME WE DON’T HEAR THAT MUCH ABOUT THE LUNAR PLEXUS? HUH!?!?
Alphabet City 