I punch at the air,
thinking I’ll knock
some sense into it, so
I swing and I miss and
instead catch myself
on the chin.
Chagall 2019
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Sweeping the cutting room floor I find
sweet snippets of verse about you
Chagall 2019
The dead, in the life of night,
parade among toppled stones,
incite the dance from below
to rhythm scored by moonlight
A lullaby
for days gone
Reel and waltz, ye phantoms!
Pirouette nimbly sublime
among raked rocks, fading candles
lit by wistful prayer
In time time ceases
Out of time
Chagall 2019
My abdomen bulges
from internal pressure
I exert to convince
you of things plainly so.
Chagall 2018
If ever I end up
in a hospital room
awaiting my final hour,
break me out.
Let’s have one last adventure.
I would rather die sloppily in my own backyard
staring at your face, then neatly in some sterile room
without you.
Love, Chagall – 2019
Even now I wave goodbye
till the car turns the corner.
Chagall 2019
The time found when
one is excused from
having to perform
a previously scheduled
and daylong duty, begets
such wanton pleasure.
Chagall 2019
I remember when I was a child,
before I could speak, I could feel
the earth fall in orbit ’round the sun
How frightening this sense of terra
less than firma
As well, the rotation of the planet was apparent,
a careen around celestial hairpin-turns
en route to sunset and tomorrow
Since then I have acclimated,
developed counter-balance to allow
me to deal day-to-day with the topsy-turvy
flight of our bumblebee
Similar to seeing life
right-side up
I am a silver surfer
atop a hallowed plain
hanging ten
Chagall 2019
Inspired
but tired
Chagall 2019
Last night it dawned on me,
quite vividly, that we must
be alone in the multiverse,
otherwise our poetry would
not convey such great wisdom,
nor our existence such ultimate
irony.
Chagall 2018
