Alphabet City

I could always excite more buzz
than there really was, more Saturdays a week than 
just two, more full moons monthly than the usual handful,
this eternal and repeating last kiss

I once brought starlight to wonder,
a willow to her knees, a vernal pool to tears

I've gone through four pairs of feet from dancing
too many nights away, too many years ago

I can still sense you when I exhale,
in that warm deep rush of air, 
the aroma of lingering touch

I will always defer going to sleep 
in favor of living on

Chagall 2020

To the hummingbird I am 
the Provider of the Nectar,
the god behind the fine porch screen,
the shiny egg-shaped being who carries 
the bright red feeder

Chagall 2020

They don't even make loved ones
like they used to

Chagall 2020

The dog's name was Winifred,
Winnie for short, but my Mom called her Winnifer'
like Jennifer, because...well, that's just how my Mom was.

Chagall 2020

In the rays of today's afternoon star,
all sorts of insects everywhere 
pause to nap while they suckle 
luscious nectars

Butterflies, hummingbirds, large fuzzy bumble bees,
bump among the giant zinnia where the damselflies dance,
electric-blue diamond needles

The world is a song of bright yellows 
and chiffon baby's breath, without a mar,
a loam scent so deep, a breeze from nowhere so warm

...nary a mar

Chagall 2020

The most subtle tickle inside my head
lets me know that I'm not dead

Chagall 2020

I opened the doors to all of the rooms
to better confine the dog to any one space;
now she just lies wherever, doesn't bark,
doesn't follow me compulsively wherever I go, 
knowing she can come (or not) as she pleases

Chagall 2020

A little bit of Afghan
atop the Blue and Durban,
helps me to cope with my day

Chagall 2020

Gaia herself is a spinning Jenny,
a celestial whirlamajig
upon which new-born hummingbirds
ride shotgun atop butterflies 
together tracing erratic patterns 
while doily-skinned polynoses
copter to the ground from maple canopies

each of these 
is a samara

everywhere
life is a twirl

Chagall 2020

I searched every tonal koan and cranny,
every nook and canary-yellow,
but still I did not find you

Traversed eons, then ions,
kept my eye on the prize,
when crossing looked left first

I saw you'd left
no note, nor song, 
nor rhyme scheme, 
though the author,
songstress, and poet,
were there 

until she wasn't

Looking back to the way we looked forward,
it is hard to contemplate how easy it was
to detour so widely

So wildly the winds once blew your sails,
hale gale force gulping big riptides
in its froth the surface found calm
spent by its constant churning
to mind the heart

for to mine love once must sometimes dig deep, 
rarely does it simply lie there 

on the ground unattended
perhaps I lie to myself

underground, I was once fully attentive,
with each new birth I earn, I learn 
to continue to be so

to distill the most from each breath
of each life

vigilant consciousness
on the alert for 
any impending
rapture

Chagall 2020