I peruse the space, stare at the various items
hanging indistinct there in the dark, and wonder:
which me will I don today?
Chagall 2019
Archive for November, 2019
I am happy to see the names Derek and Dirk on the rise.
We can certainly use less Dicks.
Chagall 2019
ladybug, ladybug
o’ so trusting,
undeterred even by touch,
walking across my porch screen,
with all the qualities
one imbues in a puppy –
at least for me,
such is my love
for your sentience
don’t fly away, fly away
ladybug
Chagall 2019
young trees wrapped in burlap
stand sentry, bulky in the field,
cozy under their shaggy rag-tag
almond-brown sweaters
with each nip of cold air they grow
stronger, every moment older,
as is the way
if trees had noses
they’d run just like ours
but, oh! come earliest spring,
how beautiful pre-bloom
with nothing but the growing-time ahead
…and I will bear sweet fruit,
throughout the days turn years,
for I am the earth and you have cared for me,
you are a fine steward
thank you
near the cove, past the lighthouse,
where the gray stone sentries
rest toppled (always in fog there) buried
under inches of moss and run-off,
lies a painter’s canvas,
a world of vibrant colors,
ripped and mud-matted,
decomposed, becoming
the very earth
it depicts: a headstone for the artist
Chagall 2019
I hate a push-broom;
there are times you
just can’t get
behind the dirt.
Chagall 2019
For as long as the flowers last,
the day lives on and you are still here
with me, my friends – the hope that was
our time together, the bright star shone
Chagall 2019
I’ve noticed that in today’s melting pot
no one melts
Chagall 2019
which synapse do I need to trigger
to forever remember the vivid lines
about her?
which emotions do I impale upon memory?
i will sacrifice knowing my own name
if there be a dearth of cells
allotted to the past
make my recollection of her, premium:
all of the senses, all of the time
Chagall 2019
this morning I awoke frightened,
startled by the abrupt start
of the backup engines that propel
existence
Chagall 2019
the moment – now – is heavy syrup,
laden weighted-down, such is the feeling
of timeless
I nod: “…until then, then.”
each memory is an interim
state before the next forgotten
what goes must start
from inside this edge
there! – a glimpse of firelight
all through my brain
stuttering,
uttering sparks
intended to kindle
being
and I bootstrap
another I
unknowingly
Chagall 2019
Alphabet City 