The greenhouse torn down, disassembled
panes of flexible glass strewn about, still warm
Chagall 2017
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Unless you have lived in a railroad tenement, you probably don’t know
what a front-room is.
Chagall 2017
Actually we have no love; we have sentiment; we have emotionality, sensuality, sexuality; we have remembrances of something which we have thought as love. But actually, brutally, we have no love.
-Krishnamurti
Please see here for full quote
The sculptress masterfully shaped the clay into a quartet of delicate foibles,
a wonderful statue of limitations.
Chagall 2017
Morning fosters ambition and wields a net; time flies.
Chagall 2017
I have come to realize
I will not let me down
Chagall 2017
Today they awarded a prize to the happiest girl in the room.
I lost.
She had auburn hair,
scented of coca
cola and cloves,
and a face
to die-for in profile.
Well,
she
just
might.
I offered the room
the top of my head,
while she made ceremonial rounds.
Happiness is relative,
I told myself,
misery could be better,
depending on the scale,
and if they grade on a curve.
Nothing’s absolute
the man to my right says
Of that I’m absolutely certain
My shoes need shining,
my hose is torn,
my Latina skin showing through
like polka dots, since the Nude
color had in mind
fairer, happier girls.
I feel faint so I fan
my face with the program,
suddenly I need air.
I need space
I need time
I need love
Soft kisses
rain on my face
to wash
life away
You OK?
he asks
I’m fine.
A…
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He was brusque, touching her breast. She bristled. Later, at the breakfast after the bris, she brushed him away yet again. Brave, she breathed-in deep, braced herself and bashed him.
Chagall 2017
The shadows flit across my room
as many falling leaves as once were stars
Wind circles about me and I it
in frenzied dervish
Color vibrates seemingly
randomly
I hug Time
adieu
Clouds scurry alit aloft
moving too fast
Above earth’s patch-quilt
immersed in the gulf-stream
In somber altitude
With a single tug on the hope
I untether
Below my shadow across my room
left behind fallen stars
Chagall 2017
He asked Can I see your notes…did she say that dinosaurs were placid or flaccid?
Peering at him over my bifocals, I replied: Neither. She said they’re diapsid.
Chagall 2017
Alphabet City 