Have you noticed
ants cast shadows?
Chagall 2018
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Have you noticed
ants cast shadows?
Chagall 2018
Dear Mr. Lawn Guy
Blow my weeds away
Euphemistically speaking, of course.
C’mon everybody now!
Put your hands together…
Chagall 2018
Everyday we lose subtleties,
small gestures of grace and faith
now somewhere in the void.
Perhaps not irretrievable:
one would need a hand,
a borrowed shoulder and someone’s heart maybe to cry on.
I pulse, you pulse, the way it’s supposed to happen
over time.
A perch,
unseen bird relaxes
and intuitively expels
the only song in the world.
A branch,
doves couple and breathe
into one another.
So rarefied from atop the canopy,
I yearn to stretch and become the horizon.
God, I am so endeared to the splay of existence,
I shake because I feel too much.
And too much
fades away.
© Chagall 2014
Even if there is other life out there,
the eternal question still remains:
why?
Is existence the only option?
And I don’t mean death as the alternative.
If not to exist, then …
I can only fathom my non-existence
atop an infinite expanse of gray static.
And there is the dilemma.
To perceive the great empty
implies consciousness.
Nothingness is dissatisfied
with the implication – the
inferred duality that insists
something be.
In a world of no light,
total ebon static,
we swim like silverfish
in a petri dish, bouncing
into matter.
Chagall 2018
Do any of you wordpress folks remember a writer who called herself
Greeneyed Chess? I know she went through a bout of ill-health a while back.
Any information is appreciated.
CC
I jump from the rim of the earth and
descend into the island of clouds
afloat in the sky above me; gravity
is no more.
Sadly, its time is up.
Chagall 2018
It’s written her writing is wrought
with heart-wrenching sadness; but
I think they’re wrong – she’s more wry.
Chagall 2018
I never defer to the better
judgment of others
Chagall 2018
Flee the hospital
Die watching hummingbirds feed
Alive on the porch
Chagall 2018
I pray for peace, love, longevity,
romance beneath an arch, a kiss along the Seine
an end to sorrow and hate –
the scent is perfect here
I will paint so that nothing mars
the essential, somehow I must grab and apply
small points of hundreds of millions of color beads that combine to give
meaning
life
is color
we are all
in the end
light
Chagall 2018
Alphabet City 