Alphabet City

In autumn I crawl beneath mounds of leaves, to pretend I am them,
mottled, fallen, windy but warmed, formed by thousands of siblings.

Chagall 2017

She said I’ve never seen my pan so clean!
I said You’re welcome, babe.  Just call me Pot-Walloper.

Chagall 2017

Sounds in hallways always resound, the whisperers pursue me
The ancient profound precedes me, assumes I’ve succeeded
Relentless chatter, a god and a goddess each alive
Fill my head with asides, soft off-stage banter
I can barely hear
Their disinterest
A good thing
For now

Chagall 2017

A bird in the shower singing aware where the reverb lies and the echoes are;
awash in spray she trills.

Chagall 2017

And then forever resounds: it is the wordless utterance of a sage,
filled with quiet and humility, apropos of everything

Chagall 2017 – with great reverence for El Bardo

Millennia from now, they dug and found, the Universe framed in stone – Chagall 2017

She said It’s a potato with onion, floured and deep-fried
Oh – I said – so it’s knish-ish
She said Wha’?

Chagall 2017
Visit Katz’s Deli!

When I was a girl once, combed in elusive fashion, willing to please left me
breathlessly awaiting impulse, passion, compelled by this need to fly.

Chagall 2017

I’ve become much more aggressive in how I tear the plastic food wrap across
the serrated perforation, and am enjoying clingingly great results!

Chagall 2017

I have no desire to string more than a single thought together:
my head is a trove of vignettes.

Chagall 2017