She had perfect pitch
An absolute sense of her being
Chagall 2018
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When walking to the compost bin next to the sink
to clear your cutting board,
go slow!
Otherwise the garlic skins
will certainly blow
away.
Chagall 2018
A sudden and tremendous outburst of new synapse
is creating vast networks of lateral connections
resulting in large islands – synergistic blocs –
cross-discipline circuits inciting synesthesia
of every sort where once was only my inner voice.
Chagall 2018
Another day of limitless potential
Do not take the road less travelled
Go instead into the densest thicket
Where no paths have ever existed
Forage for feelings there
Observe the exotic species
Errant thoughts feeding
At bends in the brooks
Look up
Deep sky
Boundless
Eternal
You
Not you
I
Always
Laughter sparkles
Behind a hedge
Heard but unseen
A play on the adage
The sound of falls
An alluring cascade
Breaches the ring
Consumes the mind
Free drop in misted water
Cacophony unheard ere now
Except worlds at their birth
Save for love at its death
Adrift in an eddy of a shallow pool at the base of the falls
I pine for having come this far, fearful of never being able
To retrace the steps that led me here, that could lead me home
I walk backwards onward keeping my past as a promise before me
I am impervious to thistles
Thorns that rake my back
Strewn overgrown detritus
Tripping, stumbling, receding
I
Not I
But you
Always
The gap where the thicket ends
Is where I will place my road sign
Chagall 2018
There is a winged shadow where none should be
But no one notices except for me
Chagall 2018
Perhaps I long more
for a kiss than
successful prosody.
The velvet swab of
her lips on mine
shall be the focus
of today’s incantation.
Chagall 2018
At the edge of life
Curiosity still kills
Unaware am I
Chagall 2018
what endures proves enigmatic
for those who come later
without reconcile
of then till now
a single bead
dew twists
around stem
then drops
to an instance
of water
nurtures then erodes
persistence pays
tiny rubs etch away
level grand to humble
of course one time
we would simply fly
carve graceful twists
in the light outside
air hauntingly cold
what we leave behind lasts
only so long until we return
forgetful and seeking again
Chagall 2018
We created our music separate and apart
behind our own closed doors, instead of
in the common room, where it would have been
fun to have played together.
To duet through to the wee hours, bewitched
by twisting lines of impromptu lyric.
Some other day, maybe.
Chagall 2018
Epiphany comes
less real
Chagall 2018
