I’ve waited too long to reach out,
to call, now it’s much more difficult,
soon it will be impossible.
Till the next time we see us.
Chagall 2017
Archive for February, 2019
I’d not thought of carousels in a while,
till I started going ’round in circles,
bobbing always down, no hope for the ring
right there at the tip of my outstretched hand
I gave my steed permission to let go,
enjoy the thrall of sweet grass underfoot,
the cool pure water from the brook to trough,
unbridled runs in dappled afternoons
Now at the gate I take one final look,
stretch out on the hay at the end of day
to dream of speed, fruit, loving caresses,
a soft brush trailed down and through tangled mane
The deep gaze into the eyes of twilight,
a large heart heaving after the gallop
slows in time to a steady rhythmic pace
until it ceases, when riders dismount
Across the glen the calliope sings,
lilts to say it had not been a sad song
Chagall 2019
I remember my mom, a dark morning
walking hurriedly, then huddling in the rain,
inside her coat she holds me, warm against wind,
the rapping sound of droplets on stretched fabric,
the airbrakes of buses on the avenue layers away
in rainlight under
small umbrellas
cozy in drizzle
people come and go
scurry really, blurred
more from mist than speed
who knows where that time goes…
everywhere a dollop of puddle,
walloping pools of warm water,
galoshes
most things float – so many boats rush the curb
wash-away run-water, tickling trickles,
memories of ripples sounding
the pavement, again a stream,
rivulets attain velocity
shoe-sole-heigh
the light reflected is real
as is the actual light
poetry in diffraction, astigmatism
radiates deep color
whose megaliths are these at the outcrop?
– it pours on the bridge as well
as under it – surely, waters rise and runoff
the open window brings spray – sprizzle –
with each breeze the coverlet dampens
Chagall 2019
Alphabet City 