I should
sketch this rather
than write it.
Paint or sculpt it
even;
odd…the music leaves
no trace, like a lyric and a score do,
I’d sing it,
not unlike a tree.
A sky is all
I need; a bright
wash of light,
sweet lemon near
the edges where
the senses and color
bleed.
I can always paint
this poem, this page,
this book in my hand,
in my mind looking down
at these steps,
gazing up
from this world, this pen,
this brush, this bow, and
I live on.
cc: Chagall 2025
Category: Poetry
This is the morning of the long shadow,
the prelude to high noon, the evening of the banshee,
the dulcet pour of tears.
Around and ‘round, and when it’s dawn,
does the spirit rise?
The rain-trodden smile of Hope
peeks above her upturned collar,
below crinkled eyes along the crooked path,
searches for home, a quest for the hearth,
an urn for the soul…a table for two.
A one-way journey to an earlier moment,
and the one before that, the cascade of regret;
a sweater held up to the face, an inhale,
a longing.
How many pins can you stab
in the heart of a dancing angel?
See the cherubim flail on the lance,
run through when the light is lost,
when the end-day sirens blow,
and time runs down on slow dancers.
This is the melody of the canopy: the brush and bristle
of leaves and the wind’s whistles. I am enthralled
by the vigor of the spry zephyrs found here,
the overhead murmur of starlings. I dance a jig
on the head of a pine, atop its thistles.
From this vantage, silly and giddy,
I see all of creation.
At last, something to have died for.
So many objects in my life that I can no longer arrange or make right:
a knife, a bag, a clip, a tin, a half of this, a vial of that.
Thrown here, about and there: a case, a wire, an envelope, an unpaid bill…
crumbs.
I fail to align these, to order them, to impart symmetry or pattern, only random strewn clutter,
the haphazard descent of things that fall where they may, where they might, when they can.
When all is said and done, after all is unspoken, when all is naught .
Nary a pair or a trio or a quartet of anything anywhere any longer.
The brevity of the silence rambles on, stalks my meandering, a dark figure in an alley, in the shadows beneath the muffled scream.
The howl of a rooftop banshee, dulcet and wet in the downpour.
This is the coming of the age, the upturned eye, the rain-trodden smile of hope.
To sky, always dreaming, to a star never shone, to a universe, despite its eternal course, yet to collide.
At the top, there is no friction, only free fall, where the Earth rushes to meet us
A failed glider knows, the last drop’s hardest, but such a sweet kiss touching ground.
cc: CC 2025
I’d rather die at home,
before the picture frames,
the thirsty plants,
the unequivocal candlelight,
fade away.
The slanted ray of morning sun
lights my tree, the garden rake
and dripping hose,
the self-seeding blossom
that comes every year,
tall and straight since
the youngest stalk took hold,
in the earth,
deep and firm.
cc: CC 2024
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 CC ‘24
My Christmas tree stays up until the spirit of the season leaves me. There are years my tree doesn’t come down.
cc: CC ‘24
How wonderful that
should anything stain,
‘twould be a berry
cc: CC ‘24
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
cc: CC '23
peace, love, light, and the promise of rejoicing
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
cc: CC '23 peace, love and light to all
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
cc: CC '23 peace and light to all
Alphabet City 