The children, grandchildren,
do they succeed us or precede,
a fait accompli?
I can’t tell
any longer,
Time so topsy-turvy,
Upside down,
the road so curvy,
I take it straight to the end.
No guardrails there
at the switchback,
I step into the sheer drop,
On nought but air,
to flutter.
Perchance to fly.
A chance meet missed
and they all disappear.
Unappealingly
un-appear.
Such is fate.
Faith in what is meant to be.
We reap what we imagine
We sow.
We think and act
from the plentiful field,
already amid the sights,
the aromas of the harvest.
Fulfilled.
Not
from now,
expectant of future bounty.
Wanting and unfulfilled.
In this life,
there are many mansions.
Haven’t I told you so?
cc: Chagall, 2026
Archive for August, 2026
The crisp letters of your name,
the energy behind your eyes.
You’re all
you’re meant to be,
chrism on the brow,
a reminder of the holiest,
new day: awakening.
After the floods,
before the angels fell,
when we were barefoot and young.
Before the crest of the water rose
above our foreheads,
leaving us sublime.
Forgotten amid detritus,
afloat among flotsam.
Ferrying back home.
Downriver.
On a toy boat,
a makeshift raft
adrift on warm sands,
the smell of the coral
saline, sweet herbal
sprayed rush of the surf on our tongues, the foam about our ankles.
Our footsteps along the edge
never fade.
And you twirl and you dance in the foam,
slowly with grace in the white caps,
your face basks in sky,
a salutation
to the brilliance that you are,
to the day
that you chose to be.
Uniquely you,
and I see most clearly
my love for you
is sooner than now.
To be christened as such
is our promise.
Alphabet City 