there must be a ceiling broke-through
an atrium somewhere
or I will be trapped
contained
never to fly away
they will capture me no matter how rapid
my wings in ascent
I travel floor to floor
a frantic search for egress
to the underside of the roof
no farther
they rise in chase so I descend
once past them
they reverse
so I rise again
on and on
I spy a small tear in the fabric,
in a corner up and away where I bob to rest
in a panic, I deflate, collapse
press through
I am atop a tall building
in the gold twilight
the world stretches far beyond below
gargoyles, fascia, domes and cupolas
too distant, too many to discern any detail
it is after sunset
without a sense of morning
to fly this course is not the same, but not unlike
that to which I've grown accustomed
one strong downward flap at a time
I cannot, shall never return to the world inside
for the tear has been mended
I am uncertain if buoyance works here
don't fail me
I dip one wing to test the updraft
lean into the invisible
like prayer
I slip off the edge
behind closed eyes, I know
I am alight
aloft
I pick up speed
incredible velocity
I will
myself to crash
to no avail
it is out
of my hands
to those gathered on the roofs below, I am a rapid float
a figment
an irritant to the world-bound
with new confidence I bank
steeply
atop the hot wind
I shout to the searchers from the inside out now, to look up
they see me
I point
Heaven!
tucked tightly, wings pinned, I commence my take-off
like a fool gone wild I ride the envelope's curl
upward against immense gravity
to where there is no air, no light
onward to the pulsar's hum, ejecting spent stages
I soar
I vibrate and rattle, my needles all in the red
gears grind, metal teeth gnash
the beat-beat-beat of bleeding ear drums, tom-toms
the sound of planets birthed, of dying stars gone supernova
the roar of the wrath of the Almighty
a crescendo of harmony, a superchord
dissonance unlike anything I'd ever presumed godly
nothing is quiet, all of creation in a single sound
then suddenly, nothing but quiet, palpable calm
radiant beams of diffracted light, prisms halo
the myopic blur of the eternal afloat on the placenta of orbit
this is not an exit
this is the path
to re-entry
below me, the earth sleeps
dark and beautiful
awash in its indigo
together with the blue pearl
atop
the black
under the splay of Her jeweled hand
She points me at the wares
cc: CC 2022
Archive for March, 2022
I use the word alight a lot
for I often discuss birds and souls in flight
who seek rest upon branches and stars
And twilight too
is more than mere sound
with its unvoiced tease
at the beginning
at the end
unbreathed tongue stopped
air pressure
too many times
does birthed crop up
no one really sires ideas
or a new me
with the frequency that I imply
and reams of dreams
a shortcut for setting
context for symbols
cleverly
awakened by cymbals
from the room below
a drumroll, good speakers
sounds like vinyl pushing air
a zoot sizzles on a zildjian
a zephyr in the treetops,
how I love a good canopy
a hazy cool gone wild
in the midst of the pink, in the mist on the brink
I ideate to while away the time
while sexy somnambulists samba
sweaty in summer
I write little (nothing?)
about afternoons, interims, go-betweens
or what the germans call something-something-blick
the blur that's there but not seen
when you move your eyes from right
to left rapidly
to leave suddenly is a theme of mine
whether by death, or train, or a slip in the night
usually twilight, never mid-day
to help spawn a new you
love lost then found! then lost again
twice alit
I overuse heaven and frenzy
rarely mention hell except on earth
for a short while I SO LOVED
oxygenate and its various noun and verb forms
even in haiku
(...a kid'll eat ivy too, wouldn't you?)
and photons, and light, and sentience, and all things eternal,
goddesses more often than gods, one God, non-dual, trinities,
Evans' trios and Miles's quintets
peace and hope and love and Gaia
but always somewhere lurked a kiss
a soft and quiet run of a finger
a long stretch of skin
a shudder, a tickle
the lost picture of the only thing lost,
a haunting interval
perhaps an interim at last
a hint at what takes place
beyond the ellipsis
cc: CC 2022
Sometimes I try
to jam a lifetime's regret
into a single evening
Make a list of the actions I'll take
to catch up on all the delinquency,
make all my outstanding to-dos
stand down
to get back to Day 0
ground 0's
dust still on the black lug soles
I wore that day
under my sleeve
yet branded
I hallucinate
the airline seat
in the yard we can see
from alan's lobby
there on the promenade
small tug boats chugging to and fro
atilt, washing water onto the esplanade
confetti fell, ash like a midnight snowstorm
stopped, then again confetti fell
on that september morning, two lunar parades within one hour
then perfect blue sky
no clouds, except for those gathered in my mind
I deferred life despite the rain, moisture-rich air made for cloudbursts,
kept me tentative, decidedly askew without boxes left to tick
flightless yet on the wing, never to touch down, eternally alit
two candles
remember the rumble, the ground-shake, the cotton masks fashioned
from the center's tablecloths and napkins, the large shears
I dusted off a man I did not know, who was covered in powdered sugar,
I tasted the sweetness of many lives
life interrupted
oh, to recommence
we have yet to return
to our regularly scheduled...
the end of our broadcast day
till 'morrow when all is righted again
cc: MCS, CC, 2022
The nubs left behind by the splintered branches, make it easy to cling to the tree, fashioned to hold in the talons' hollows, unwavering they perch in the northeast wind, above the grain fields, beyond the walls, below the misted echelon A world turned upside down, reversed without correction from any brain "The self-aggrandizing pricks doth protest too much, methinks," I rage, after being shaken and speared, as I go ungentle into that good night They await those who will await, to while away the time without song or whistle, no lilt, just lift in the updraft, where to feast is heavenly, to digest and shit divine a squadron of bottom feeders twerking their way to the top cc: CC 2022
This poem was written in the quiet room, words are not uttered, nor ideas harmed, no symbols convey the shapeless whisper, observe the poet's lips here incarnate, the flicker in your eye is her stutter, your blink...her babble, your tear...her sadness, what you see is the soul, her reckoning, her requiem fixed on the final line cc: CC 2020
The clouds have all gone away, so fair-weather friend - come out, let's play! Until the dark skies fill my head, the dreaded times Where are you now? We can still be chums under covers, cuddled, withstanding wind and rain Until the next ray of sunshine, friend, till then cc: CC 2022
ACT I She said trees cry I yelled, raised the ax Demanded bear fruit or else Amid tears I hear a faint yes You speak on their behalf? I ask To which she begets her first leaves ACT II I once chopped down a pear tree, and from its wood, ripped planks for a floor Over time the floor took root in the earth, grew to bear fruit, fine pears all around From the one tree grew seven ACT III She writes the eggs with ancient designs, amulets on shells, and hangs one on each branch, of each tree ACT IV She checks the covered pot of cream and sees that the spider she placed there has built a web, a good omen, so she calls the place Home ACT V With the yellow flowers of early spring, she weaves garlands as headdress for all the horned animals, and parades them about as a harbinger for all good things cc: Michael 2022
Stars are formed in clouds Of gas and dust, nebulae Nuclear at core The eddies mist cold Lavender melts under snow Bleeds purple on white Stars provide enough Energy brightly for years The exact lifetime Silence glistens here Chilled pools beckon promising Reflection under We are born of stars So proud until we pulsar When fusion ceases Among all two find A sense of having been there Empathetic eyes Eons erase hope What once would light forever Turns to gamma ray Shall never lose me Shouts beyond the din recede To vast empty stretch Pridefully suns sear Hot too fast, too self-consumed No cheeks yet to burn Circular water Too near the edge of the falls The promise to drown Godspeed is lightspeed We see until we are blind Not invisible Holding fast they plunge In momentary freefall Defying the crush We are dark matter More of us than meets the eye Feel our gravity Two plummet headfirst Upturned soles to God’s heaven The tickle of love Ripped seams in space-time Blessed beings emerge headfirst The dead prefer breach Plumes of graceful froth Envelop twin beating hearts Up until the sere Nothing left to burn Suns die everyday out here To leave voids of love Suddenly without Love’s denouement sings sadly Still ache crescendos Massive cores collapse Passages to yesterday Bridges to Other Melody solo Lost, searching harmonically Hearts rapt atonal When stars burn cooler Life has opportunity Everywhere blue worlds Shall never find me Resounds off wet chamber walls Where echos loiter The scent of Goddess Permeates all creation Sweet salinity A flickering flame Somewhere a flue, air to breathe Pinpoint light quite dim Life is atmosphere Creatures born to see the light Watercolorists Ascension too fast Lungs explode before tongues meld Alive once again Fine pointillism Clarity from a distance Planets at the edge Shout hallelujah Frenzied oxygenation Salt water on lips Accelerating Behind us time looms ahead Wrapped implicitly Love again refrains Adrift on sunny sandbars Palm fruits, dates, acai We are young again Stellate beings thrice reborn Twice kissed we are alone Two swimmers azure Water beaded sky blues hope Refracted visions Before words we were Nothing, pointed subtlety Essentially stars Will never lose me Mouthed indistinguishably There underwater cc: Chagall 2022
History does not repeat itself,
instead it reemphasizes its points
Even if dust be reassembled,
remolded to beget the people and
the rooms where laughter once pealed,
it would not be long before they'd again crumble
Release the voices stuck in the corners where
walls meet ceilings,
stairways meet rooftops,
lovers eye stars that die eons ago, like them just
moments ago,
all of time is yet here,
behind our closed eyes
Once upon that time, the wind entered me, danced upon
my vocal cords, vibrations of me in the airstream,
I emanated sounds like those of creation, to pulse
magically, ametrically, sympathetically with all the created
The uncertainty of whether I am the core or the outskirt,
the beginning or the end,
the reveler or the laughter,
the ceiling or the sky,
the edge of the dome or heaven,
the earth or the mycorrhizae,
the magma or the igneous mantle,
merely me again at the core
If entropy be the gradual decline into disorder, perhaps
the dead can once again live, for death, as I see it now,
is the more orderly state of our being
To be or not to be, was never the question,
rather to love or not
cc: Chagall 2022
If my son comes home with a girl or a boy, and tells me they are in love, I will give them my blessing and assist them all I can. People fall in love with a soul, and those are everywhere. But when my daughter gets beat by 4 laps in a swim meet by a person who 2 years ago was ejaculating to old Playboy centerfolds, I lose my fucking mind. Love, Chagall
Alphabet City 