Yeah, about as liberal as my butt.
She doesn’t even compost!
Chagall 2015
Category: Writing
I’m finding more
guitar picks
laying lying around
these days
I’m feeling
more nimble
then and than
stars
We, I believe
are our own
answers
Swear
on a pinky
ring
More in
a haze
these days
Amazing these
swifty
autumn ways
Chagall 2015
Obtuse
oblique
opaque
but
oh so
entertaining
Chagall 2015
Avoid these patterns intentionally
Reticent or slightly dense –
there is a difference you know.
Not even a rhymer.
Like throwing zephyrs at darts
– oh you know what I mean!
(don’t make me type all caps)
Chagall 2015
One star
for everyone
We begin
as well as we end
Simply
carbon}
Chagall 2015
Easier to float up
than glide down
I fear for crashing
unable to brake
Ascending I’m secure
push gravity
Full-massage body
peculiar underwater
Chagall 2015
Any two people
anytime
reflect the face
of each other
a patch of land at sea
under starlight
is where I embrace you
we kiss to the lap
of warm waves
a timeless moon-blue
velvet moire overhead
opens to the expanse
of all existence
a single moment
an eternal glimpse
Chagall 2015
I have no energy left yet so much to say.
No, that’s not right. I simply have need to say something.
There is no specific content or quantity in mind.
I hope that in describing that need
I’ve said something.
Writing is no longer a viable alternative
for that primal scream I would emit
hurling myself off a rooftop.
Chagall 2015
She tried to convince me
that she was the list of all things
the ontology
She placed the back of my head
against her breasts then kneaded the pain
from my shoulders
Her rhythms were micro
inside at times then upon the muscle
a consummate masseuse
She turned me folded around
hot moist wrappings
settled-in cool smooth sheets
She leaves a dulcet tone
rung before it’s struck
reverberating
still
Chagall 2015
She whispers
It’s you from long ago
And indeed I feel younger, more vibrant
As I run soft kisses along her neck
I ask her
How will I be?
Chagall 2015
Alphabet City 