Yes – perfect – place her there,
far from the maddening roar of
the love these two share.
© Chagall 2016
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Crest absorbs warm rain
Lone bird soaking on a branch
Watery warbles
© Chagall 2016
Small letters alight on her lashes, tiny poetry about her eyes
Kisses of ancient rhythm, a pucker for a flame stoked
Each blink the turn of a page reveals whole worlds
Every breath has meaning, those lighter than air defy gravity
Limericks line her brow when she laughs
When she sighs I trace my lips along the long volta of her neckline
Where her sonnets turn around
Down her arms flow three-letter words, we are kids again
Awash in primary colors, hands waving wildly at tickles
Dancing about in a spray, we drink water from a hose
There are symbols dangling from her ears that I do not recognize
Baubles of mystery; I linger there eschewing translation.
© Chagall 2016
Mistaken that I was mistook;
they knew exactly who I am.
© Chagall 2016
I wrote a song just for her about the sand and sea – I played it
and she swam away
© Chagall 2016
On a carpet of flower petals
I lie eyeing the sun. Tap
those receptors there,
prod me to yearn for forever
or another vast place where I sense
my being is once removed.
My sunlit face not a fleeting echo.
Her smile across the handlebars
with my heart there in the basket.
I watch her pedal away. Somewhere
there are sambas playing.
© Chagall 2016
The procession begins,
mere letters shape form
from void, become benign
shapes we call words,
to beget concept.
Me?
I’m happy
right here.
© Chagall 2016
For my Dad, 5th Marines, Spearhead Division, Iwo Jima,
who lived through events that I cannot even fathom.
My dad said
just before landing
they handed out shots of
pure grain alcohol 180 proof
courage at 9 knots moving in
Higgins boats toward the island
when the bow ramp dropped the Marines in front
went face-down quickly into the ocean while the others
ran by to stake positions on the red volcanic sand surrounding the prize
Mount Suribachi
© Chagall 2016
Is.
Feel the fry of that z?
Izzz: the electric barbed hum of life.
© Chagall 2016
There’s full moons tonight
All the worlds everywhere
Love sighs
By the light of ancient stars
Lips part breathless
© Chagall 2016
Alphabet City 