Alphabet City

I knew her when
she was first
untethered

in platinum
as if under black light
she shone

terse, tense
lithe and alive
in a lather of lavender foam

stretched, arced and aching
for a view higher than
her back could bridge

she was rippled, a dance –
fragrant, a tingle, en-pointe

a place where fingertips
might traipse then linger
to dally lightly
hmm…tickle?

she slides to feel
every portion of a body
in motion against another –
to give in to gravity

something about this fabric
in time

I have always conceived her as spun in lights
enrobed in a series of pulses

on
off

growing
ever brighter
and then
ever smaller

to recede:
like a constellation
traces who she really is
via stars once decided on
long ago

again, I’m recalling
when she was first
untethered

Chagall 2018

I started with
She was an acute cutie with an obtuse tushie and complementary angles…
but then I contemplated if that was really
how I wanted to kick off my writing-day
and decided against it

Chagall 2018

She writes poems on a misted mirror,
opens the window to let cold air rush in
– this chills the glass; words stay crisp
and letters take longer to bleed.

Chagall 2018

Would you love me more if you knew me?

Chagall 2018

Tonight, under full moon – the worm moon –
I watch fireworks over Lake Crescent, ascend
in silence save for the hiss of speed that lifts them
high into a cloudless sky painted black clay

sky rockets, mortars, and aerial shells,
blast and report to scare away
the evil spirits among us

powdery stars of the same elements we are,
calcium, sodium, potassium,
cesium, antimony – to name a few –
burn to glow orange, gold, violet,
white, silver, and indigo – among many

tracing the heavens in
peonies, horsetails,
kamuros and willows

accents of apostrophes
of titanium blue sparks

at the end leave tendrils of smoke
filigree under worm moonlight
at human scale so high

so distant from the edge

I feel the curve of the earth,
actually I see it – can sense that
we’re falling

But I really wanted to tell you about
how big and small I feel
both at one time

celebratory
here under the light
of our neighbor courtesy
of our sun

tucked away in this corner
of creation, constrained
to this perimeter I can fathom

a place I call home

Chagall 2018

I am perplexed by people who say it’s all good
and then get pissed off.

Chagall 2018

Let’s see what is happening today
in the life of Carlos Chagall …

Chagall 2018

In this land
of abandoned contraband
and fecund arabesques,
I am told it is OK
to cease to celebrate
recurring days
of birth

Headlong,
an obligation,
shopworn, tattered,
and forlorn, ahead of time
foresworn, more than four-score
years ago, way before now,
Saturdays first conceived
for salutations, felicitations,
spirits chasing salted kisses
in almost morning, before the break

Receive with broad open heart
this resonant embrace beholding
the coming of days

Captivating tenons
like fascinating rhythms
there all along the curve:
the supple subtle run
of another

Chagall 2018

The sunglass emoji says this is more about me than you.
So definitely going to go with heart-eyes on this one.

Chagall 2018

I return my laptop to the office. All of the peripherals and other technology are happy to see her again. All except for my audio gear. I will talk with them later to inquire why that is the case.

Chagall 2018