it's so trite to say one's breaths are taken away, over and again in love people forego dessert when in love, forget to sleep perchance to awaken from the dream to kiss or to be kissed, lips self-reference, lusciously grope every point on the face is alive, expectant, a lash on a cheek, a whisper on a brow, a sigh along a neckline palm to palm, temple to temple, ashes to ashes cc: Chagall 2021
Archive for December, 2021
once, in a forest, as a tree falling, I vibrated the air and demanded you Listen! are you there, here where I am, in this half-circle of inner-movie, the gray under the arc, our theater in the cozy round? I see you there where I end, where the underbrush starts if not for entropy, the broken reassembles, in time we would love again cc: Chagall 2021
And the binder that you bought me, dear Mary, I did fill with wonderful thoughts and designs, as you said I would cc: Chagall 2021
I feel all the sadness of the world cc: Chagall 2021
Anybody want to start a circle? I've never been in a circle - what would we do? Is a big or a small circle better? I know we spend time together, discuss the weather, and the whether or not around that which we circle Do we smile, do we frown, do we ever know the one on the other end of the arc we cut in the circle? At any angle, to any degree, there is beauty in the geometry of any circle formed I've never been in a circle cc: Chagall 2021
Aw man, Pat & Vanna, don't go out like that! cc: Chagall 2021
the imperfection of the green bottle is more precise than any words to describe it the contents of the bottle shake just enough to make waves in my mind albeit how tiny I throw thoughts like darts from my bullseye-out to any errant arc aren't we the pair, I and my thoughts and I! I stroke the cord, they relax, collapse into a coil to better reel them in to feel them in total dark to discern shapes (any form will do) to exit the nil we revel at the wet engulf and ride the tide home in free-fall , asleep back-to-back with nowhere to go now but forward would you like the green bottle? hold it without word, scream it with no sound, keep the shards should it one day fall and break be careful the cuts cc: Chagall 2021
Your berth, how you propel, and the arc of your exit radius, determine if you make the turn cc: Chagall 2021
I didn't think it was that funny when I said it, but my imaginary friend could NOT stop laughing cc: Chagall 2021
After the poet's burial, we drank to her memory at The Final Stanza She had died of canza cc: Chagall 2021