Alphabet City

She has inadvertently and unintentionally mastered
the art of passive aggression

Chagall 2019

The counter-top is cold against my arms as I prop on them and
lean way across the span of the kitchen’s island to kiss her,
toast crumbs and all.

Chagall 2019

With recipes, songs, and poems in my head,
I wonder, you know, how I think at all

Chagall 2019

I had such grand enthusiasm, until the pop;
a bubble untethered, remnants of rainbow alit on the ground,
the smell of glycerine in salted air, hope in freefall,
nearly imperceptible droplets – moist matter – for a moment
tickle cheeks, then dry to chalky dust, as tear-dew does

This voice inside me impersonates intercession on my behalf;
kindle that stokes ambition is best not left to chance, so
I splash my face with palmfuls of water, and begin the search
for tiny twigs

Chagall 2019

The stuff you write seems
somehow secretly
subversive

Hidden Me$$ajiz
and that kind of
rot

To beat, or not to beat
out the rhythm
is the answer

Ponder that while
ya’ pound and gather
ye rosebuds

Aglow under glorious lamp
heaven heaves

Where teardrops
tarry, starry-eyed
sisters sigh

Blest, yesterday’s satyrs
rest no more for they’re wary

Wrestled under wristlets,
I relinquish my hold

Tested,
crested,
bested

Westwardly northern gazes,
an other-worldly haze
wafts

Prolongs the permeation
to ascertain the permutations
possible

Sing with me!
…we are just
too mahvelous
for words

Chagall 2019

There is something aglow in my hand but
every time I look at it, it is gone.

Chagall 2019

When bubbles break the boundary
bring the boil back a bit…baby.

Chagall 2019

She got angry because I said I wouldn’t be impressed one way or the other.
Perhaps I should have said non-plussed.

Chagall 2019

Too beautiful to use in any practical sense,
I tuck the melodies away near the fold-away stairs,
by the porcelain espresso set, and mark them
likewise as fragile.

Chagall 2019