Alphabet City

In the intervals of silence between birdsongs,
certain periods of rest are absolute in their timing,
and on appropriate up or down beats, only particular replies allowed.

Chagall 2018

I do not impress the Carolina Wren perched on the purple lilac
when in response to her intricate call I whistle Brian May
– the opening attack, Queen’s Stone Cold Crazy

Chagall 2018

Seeker searching for hidden odes,
arbitrary poems, to be moonlit kissed

Chagall 2018

My ear is fooled. What I at first thought was the distant voice
of a poet, is instead the very nearby rumble of
an imminent and reckoning rain.

Chagall 2018

I once saw a bee inside my porch screen
materialize magically on the outside of the mesh.

Astonished, I figured there’s a hole in the material
and I somehow missed his exit via the gap.

But you must trust me – there was no such interruption
in the flow of the tiny crosshatch of the screening.

Not a single horizontal or vertical line broken anywhere.

Chagall 2018

The day adorns itself with spectacular patches of sunlight
niched in places not quite forgotten.

Away to windows lovers will fly to see starlight
tonight before clouds roll in.

The day turns to a dark powder, a granular graphite that oddly is
breathable and invigorating.  I inhale deeply.

Elsewhere lovers sleep soundly.

Chagall 2018 – rework of an earlier verse

I remember events that occur in my youth and
I know they are happening now

Chagall 2018