The tickle in your brain when you’re sober
outshines any high.
Chagall 2019
Archive for April, 2019
Imagined filament snares lost angels,
yet hosannah still sings
In time those strands do fade
Hear the bells,
sounds of joy
The beat of wings
Chagall 2019
I want you
to know that
I giggle hysterically
when I come
Haven’t laughed
like this in years
Chagall 2019
The money I withdraw
to pay last year’s tax,
is itself taxed, and will be
the basis for having to withdraw
more money next year, ad infinitum
Chagall 2019 – No taxation without constipation!
When Mr. Quan died
one of his 5th graders said that
her favorite memory was his challenge to the class
to play their recorders faster and louder than he
and the wonderful frenzy that followed
(Please see his Memorial here
I urge you to scroll down and read the notes of condolence found there)
Chagall 2019
original post OCT, 2017
May you someday know the joy of
playing music with your own child.
Chagall 2019
Your lower lip presses on mine,
our heads tilt back slightly so that
our upper lips are separated by a gap of air,
we blink once for every tremor we feel,
the other’s pulse.
When those eventually slow,
we lean forward and in.
Chagall 2019
Find the rhythm inside your life and
dance
Infer the music within the chords and
play
Hear the rhyme between your ears and
ignore it
Make it go
away
Chagall 2019
When love is gone,
the weight of the world is back,
the waiting on the word is back,
when love is gone
Without air I breathe
under sky too well,
as underwater
When time is past,
the now of the world returns,
the loss of words returns
for only now
Without you I lose
the sky known well,
as underground
When stars converge,
all that’s left is light,
all that is light
remains
Chagall 2019
Someday I will know you, without words I will recognize
the swath of life you cut; you, beguiled in form,
charm an impression eternal, conjure sibilant prayer,
the whisper of vespers, billowy puffs aromatic arise
at the touch, the long run of smoothed legs
I lose myself behind closed eyes,
the small of your ankle bone against
the hollow of my cheek, in roaming worship
I will explore all you purport to be
Chagall 2019
Alphabet City 