As I walk deeper into the garden
cool emerald surround
I disturb the entangled branches
above dry leaves matted
atop earthly loam
the scents of my life arise
my grandmother’s couch and cachet
lavender afield
the smell of shaving cream and Vitalis
permeates the night air around my uncle’s home
upstate New York every summer
hickory smoke
the lemon of Aubrey’s hair
mint on her lips
a kiss is salt water
the invigorating aroma of life
Chagall 2018
If I were blind
I’d learn to discern
the remarkable scent
of your voice
If I wasn’t so blind
I’d have had the chance
to revel in your love
Chagall 2018
I want to let go
but my heart will
not let me relent.
Chagall 2018
My identity?
Steal it!
Please.
I beg you.
Chagall 2018
Gaia
God
Haiku
Hope
Four words
at the center
of my blog cloud
Chagall 2018
Tonight at sunset, 7:06 P.M.,
I will light a yahrzeit, say
a Hail Mary, and shoot whiskey
down, in memory of his passing.
Chagall 2018
Post-Its should consider
a line of rolling papers,
branch out, take Big Bambu
head on.
Chagall 2018
Staten Island exists
because Cole Porter hits
need a rhyme for Manhattan
Chagall 2018
Birds have observed
that though we sing
we seldom fly.
Chagall 2018
It was me at the window that morning
Running my fingers along the lace tat
I watch you walk away so graceful
Of that day I remember very little
You turned, I ducked, I saw you blow kisses
You waved, I stood, at the corner you wait
I wait
You’ll come back like you always do
Chagall, September 12, 2015 (revised)
