When that which sustains anything is gone,
so too goes anything
Chagall 2018
Archive for June, 2018
Skin like chocolate almond diamonds,
lips a tawny port, they pout –
they speak other language
she has oft’ written
of the splay of the neck to the shoulder –
the heavenly slope of that ride
I love her best in primary colors,
something new in any turn
so goodbye melange,
it’s back to red-blue-yellow
and the exciting possibility of new greens
Chagall 2018
Not seeing
many hummingbirds
this year maybe
I am opening
the porch door
too abruptly
I miss their hover,
their quizzical gulps
at the feeder
the bubble-up of nectar
when the drinking is sweet
cold and long
And they have so many places to go
in such a hurry they are
all the time
But not this year, at least
not so far
Chagall 2018
Pivots, shifts of balance
rock-solid underfoot and
in the groin which grounds
to the earth that sense of spiral
from head to toe of always dancing
is really only falling
with grace
We are all
hurtling
Chagall 2018
Entertainment today is streaming – like its analog, the brook –
only subscribers need ponder the meaning.
Whereas the actual water upstream from me runs clear; onward
and downstream runs cleaner; my roots are
aqua filters. I entertain myself
with cattails, poetry, acoustic
guitar, and small plates.
Chagall 2018
Beyond the creak and imminent break of one long bough
leaning heavily into the wind, is a call too easily solved
in the simplicity of its rhythm and disingenuous lilt – obviously
human, and not a bird at all.
I do not respond but instead curl deeper
into the luxurious mat of dry leaves
over loam deep with the scent of Gaia.
In my mind I still retain
the true calls, and the respective lengths
of each intended silence.
In that fabric – that dialogue –
is the coming actual.
Chagall 2018
I am growing bioluminescent pole beans. They are beautiful
at night, girdling the garden trellis, pulsing
neon blue.
Chagall 2018
Go into my office, the two bookcases when you walk in –
about waist-high – the one on the left – there’s a stack
of black cases – the old Pimsleur language cassettes – see them?
Next to that there should be an opaque gray envelope. Call me
back if you need anything else.
Chagall 2018
A slow drop of rain
falls heavily on the plain
Heavenly on the pale reflection it puddles
perfect in every way
Falling in time, once again misted
against stems I cling to
twine after twine
Finally carousels slow to the ground
long after everyone is gone
…sleepy heads
While high above outstretched aerialists hover
to wish one another adieu
Chagall 2018
Water from a bough above
falls upon a lower leaf
breaking the absolute
silence of sight and sound
in the garden
Chagall 2018
Alphabet City 