here where there
is no
rip cord
nor zip line
i howl full bore
lost at the timberline
here where the air
is thin unseen
creatures scurry
i can
hear where they’re
hidden
lit towns
below me beckon
there where her
heart lies
there where there’s
no rest for the weary no
rest for the weary
no rest i remain
here where there’s
dark where i am the heir
apparent to invisible matter
Chagall 2016
Delicate is
perhaps
too indelicate
a word for what
i have in mind
it’s much more
misted
nuanced
unveiled
expelled air
barely emerged
ex nihilo
create
state
change
transition
the question:
who you are?
Chagall 2016
. . . let all the children boogie
I picked her up 8 PM
As she locked the front door
I stood aside breathing in deeply
the cold winter sky
Where are we off to?
she asked excitedly
Pointing up I blurted
Orion Nebula, a star-forming region
below Rigel and Betelgeuse
there’s some folks I’d like you to meet
After staring at me long and hard, she said
Wait here a moment, let me grab my gloves
Chagall 2015
I’ve had it for the night
The club is smoky, the vibe less tight
Than certainly I would have crafted
She is boring, probably bored
Hasn’t heard me the first time
So I shout over the music
The tune is called
Monosyllables Affirm The Humdrum
To which she says Oh
and nods
Chagall 2016
I write at a desk
with a window behind me
When my screen goes dark
it reflects the sky
that spans there
over my shoulder
Where a red-tailed hawk
on air currents glides
circling my login prompt
Chagall 2016
I cherished
those youngest days
so lush, wet with life,
implicate order and hope.
Chagall 2015
Colored beads cover every atom of her surface
skin to halo collisions create misty aura
En pointe her tenons convey the brace of hearts,
on flex she sighs as she stretches that about her which is ground –
not earth, but the space against her figure where existence breaks into outline
against the void she enables
She hurtles through space, falls at the same pace
as mystifying tendencies there on the outskirts
My fingers trace her hem to a chorus of Amen
remnants of older chants echo about us
There is sadness in her beauty
melancholia piques her desire
We find random wonderful happenstance
perfect such that there’s no need for change
so we will time to stop to persist every aspect
to christen Us as timeless
Together we as twin stars bare
heavier atoms still
Chagall 2015
How I cherished those youngest days
so lush, wet with life,
implicate order and hope.
Chagall 2015
I fear we’re becoming
people who have no concern
for those who succeed us
Instead we live for the moment
without an obligating sense
to make Gaia inheritable
Similarly there are those
who have no reverence
for those who precede us
Family, tradition, culture and mores
reduce to biology resembling nothing
more than a gene pool
May they drown in the shallow end
Chagall 2016
Alphabet City 