I love that your room still smells of you, as the attic did of that summer I can't quite discern what it is, whether your hair, a lotion, or simply you, it pervades the air on these warmer days, though it's been years I close my eyes and ride the time, tide will take me back again, the well-worn aroma helps me push to birth your memory Once born, I shall never open my eyes cc: Chagall 2022
Archive for January, 2022
The other day I came across an old video - VCR type - I made many years ago, my parents and my children hovering over a Papier-mâché volcano, as they take turns pouring vinegar into its crater to make baking soda and dish-soap foam over, eruptions of laughter from the four of them, young and old, at Vesuvius bubbling away on the porch table It occurs to me though, today, that the area caught on film where this is all taking place - the porch - was not constructed until after my Dad passed away, with money he had left me cc: Chagall 2022
The more lights I turn off, the less sad the room is cc: Chagall 2022
Beauty attracts to itself that which would detract from its beauty ...would destroy it, in fact cc: Chagall 2022
Have you seen how the world works, how it breaks down and cries? Here today and gone tomorrow, if not the day after A penny saved is often stolen, from those contributing their two cents Too many happy feet among members of the stomping crowd So much glass sacrificed at the Mass Had the denizens of ancient Rome possessed iPhones at the Forum... Love thy neighbor as you love thyself is unsound advice if Thy be self-loathing so Love simply cc: Chagall 2022
Humbly I walk the wetlands, goldfinches spring from sere red leaves into trees stripped bare primeval Ancient caws overhead sing the timeless, the space of gray I am in Drowsy rodents at hollowed knots, woody sworls where broods await winter A stream of water diverts to run the clearing at the eddy's edge where the last leaves alight like Giverny water lilies Points of light touch my optic nerve, for a moment the world is inverted but I'm upside-down so all's righted The air hints impending, upending each moment till the next until now I scream inside, cry outside, I ache to grasp the is, the all that isn't I climb onto a low branch, a vantage above ground, my back against trunk for balance First small birds then early snow, alight on my lashes, till I am consumed in feathery frost In thaw I am the vernal pool that reflects moonlight in the faces of thirsting deer From me erupts the eternal smaller than life as we know it, divine, grander than anything not cc: Chagall 2018/2022
She asked if I would please come down from the parade, home from the water where hope flows slower than time, back to where it all began to all begin to be all in one final moment lapsed each passing day a cedilla an underscore Dearest Love, Apart from all living things, everyone is fine, at least that’s what they tell me... I get lost in my search so I look for a way to return to the searcher all is above me now sky is below, so to fall is to fly I call down to her that I'll be home dear soon cc: Chagall 2022
Though the most heinous deeds cannot shatter our faith in humanity, one small act of kindness and civility can wholly rekindle it cc: Chagall 2022
And when I die I pray there is still morning, each awash with passion and expectation for the new day cc: Chagall 2022
Certain songs I cannot sing, conceived to cry, melodic intervals, melancholic chasms, lyrics left unsung like spoken word, life's celebration cut short, the foolishness of what we feel, fragile undying compulsion to love perchance to exist, finally Just when the fun is starting, comes the time for parting... cc: Chagall 2022
Alphabet City 