Category: Writing


Winning Blotto Numbers

I drove around
to window 1, yelled
Supersize me soporific!

I’m storing up surplus numb
for the winter

Chagall 2015

The Expansion

Over time
God becomes
ever more vast

Chagall 2015

A small bird flying overhead
determinedly through the wind
high above is tossed she chirps
desperate to be somewhere

Chagall 2015

Bonbon

If I had to choose
between you and ice cream
I’m pretty sure I would choose you.

Chagall 2015

Friday Nite, Need I Say More

To indulge the juvenile delinquent
in us, divulge if you would delight
in making out for a moment?

Nothing real crazy
just a peck or too
or three will do.

Nose-to-nose who knows
how far we goes, head to toes
maybe.

We
shirk
all
pressure.

Who knew so little soap
could emit so much lavender.

Chagall 2015

Diversity

At work I’ve insisted
that my team be staffed
with nothing but ladies
of beautiful color

Our primary mission:
To rock any world
we encounter

Chagall 2015

Except For Alice

This weekend I supped
at an all-gay diner
had the special – a BLT,
on the way out I sipped
the house Kool-Aid, been hummin’
Carousel’s soliloquy since

Chagall 2015

Wake Up And Smell The Carbon!

An ism or an ology
is not what is

Please don’t think you know me
as I wouldn’t you

There is no fight nor war
if you take the time to ponder

How wonderful we all are
in this our hour of heaven

I’m a Castilian Daoist with romantic charm
so please don’t mar me with label

And I can make a great pierogi, I can make
us see – I think – to begin to see

There is no war nor fight
when one takes the time to wonder

How wonderful we are

Chagall 2015

As Cellophane Bends To The Sound

My “likes” amount to seventeen
like clockwork everyday

Seven at breakfast, five at lunch
and the rest at eve’s respite

My day has become
haiku

Chagall 2015

I continue to search for soft wind
to blow the gentler spirals that were once
aloft above metropolis, pinwheels of fallen dreams
so many ticks on the tape ago, confetti
don’t rain on her parade though it pours on mine
and she and I have no umbrella, just tiny Chinese
parasols we grip between our teeth
to shelter our hearts from the storms approaching,
eddies, torrents, and twisters, so difficult
near impossible, to steal a kiss this way.

Chagall 2015