The best way to avoid being cut
is to stay above the blade

Chagall 2018

Time is the inference we make
between now and then, and so
to understand the implication
of that, is an act on the order
of the fifth dimension.

Mira, I think your shirt is on fire!

Chagall 2018

Piano!

C’mon an’ Clap with me –

Aw beep beep
Haaw beep beep

HAAAAAww BEEP BEEP

BANG BANG!

TURN IT UP!  IT’S FRIDAY NITE!

I am on the head of a photon stream from trillions of miles away

astride a beam of light

to say my hair is windblown
is an absolute understatement

patiently I await arrival
here, just only a moment from
now

the doors open and
I alight

on terra firma
somewhere

all I have loved
long gone

yet I am as fresh as
my passport photo

once was

Chagall 2018

I expel my breath

I can see it
shatter into all
the colors
of light

“There!” I yell.  I had heard it.  “The Song!”

respectfully, Chagall – 2018

Across the field, do you see him!
I see him

Quickly then,
let’s follow

Before he fades away

Snow light, so bright
first savior I see tonight

Please save me

Chagall 2018

O’ have you seen the Christmas trinkets,
delicate and light, blown-glass stenciled,
painted merry in gold, red, green,
adorned with real flakes of snow that fall
on the market cold this night

Careful with these – they are quite fragile,
and absolutely prone to break

Chagall 2018

The obit asserts
you died this year
the 23rd of July

Nearly 5 months ago

A Monday,
not quite 3 weeks
from the 4th’s celebration

Today I read that
the pancreas is
a mere 6 inches long

I’d not known
you were an only child

Chagall 2018 – for J.F.M.

Breathe

in the day
earth and subtle drops
would-be dew in the air

no matter

how cold
at the tip of the nose

the mind remains

warm and cozy
alert and coiled

systolic beat
shuffling feet

crisp leaves ripe
for tinder

in underbrush
kindled

the sound of souls
wanders

wonders
the good earth

so much life
in a day

Chagall 2018

At the onset of the good night,
at this the close of day,
I rage against the light that dies,
as Dylan points the way

Uncertain am I if I be
wise, good, wild, or brave,
I still burn and rave, and feel
the blaze of heaven in my eyes

I deem the dark to be wrong,
everywhere is green bay,
I hear chorales, the song
of suns and stars in flight

As Mr. Thomas counsels,
I shall not be so gentle
in the face of the dying light

Chagall 2018

Please see Dylan Thomas – Do not go gentle into that good night