I am not the sum of the words that describe me
nor the flow of blood inside veins under skin
I understand very little of life
yet I live
In quiet repose under stellar night sky
I am lost in a song brushed by wind
Hushed, I am humble
so small
Chagall 2018
I wash the last remaining member of
my Mom’s set of Blue Ridge hand-painted plates,
green rim encircling apples on a stem, and remember when
those were new, a complete set, and the world held all its promise.
Chagall 2018
At 32 feet
per second
each second,
the planet falls up
to snare fallen angels.
Chagall 2018
Rapidly moving clouds beget fleeting shadows,
a panoply of ocular mosaic, designs
of photon, figure, and ground.
Chagall 2018
A pinball plunger is pulled
torque builds tension, drives a blue planet hurtling
Yet to achieve status quo
but already we are dying
What a sad lot
done but barely begun
Expansion wraps
central stars implode
planets light up
critical mass
the multiverse shifts
orbits combine
new suns enjoy
15 minutes of fame
We are domino
tip us watch the long ripple
beget life everywhere
a taper to kindle
We are seeds
oh, how testy we are
Chagall 2015/2018
When the world disappears to leave harsh seams
I seek the path past gravity
Chagall 2018
Alphabet City 