I
Primitive platinum Pachucan thimble
used just once to sew eyes shut
Peruvian glass slippers
for dancing the see-thru night away
Paraguayan parasols atop park benches
to poke Uruguayans who sleep there
II
Polish kielbasa
grilled on a roll, mustard/sauerkraut
Purple grape pixie sticks
sweet never opened
III
Princeton genius ponders
atoms of a moth-eaten sweater
IV
People everywhere
praying
V
People everywhere
preying
Chagall 2016
So much life
in the vee of that tree
indeed lots astir
at the crotch
Chagall 2016
The hot water of the shower spray
feels great on her face, after
an all-night cry
Who knew such
a recurring but
fleeting thought
could provoke so
many tears?
Under the mist
she promises
herself today
will be no different
Chagall 2016
A whisper in a storm
hums poetic
melody for the deaf
astounding blind artists
who speak till silenced who
no longer levitate for fractures
to wings heal slowly you know
what freedom feels like –
remember?
Clear mind. Vibrant life.
Hope. Opportunity. Beautiful oxygen.
Chagall 2016
how often I found her
tucked up in hollows
nestled in whorls
amid swirls
she spun
a pinwheel crazed
in gale wind
alighting where she pleased
now she is upright
safe in fluted forms
amid her friends
secure and alee
Chagall 2016
One day long
ago I lived
with a senorita
who scored
clave-shaker
duets for money
From the window
I shouted
It appears as if
snow is starting
to fall!
She whispered dryly
Then let’s let it
Chagall 2016
Deconstruct me
leave
a wake of
voids
Chagall 2016
They’ve changed
the laws ’round
here so you can
smoke pot as long as you can
prove you couldn’t have been
better off doing something
else elsewhere
Chagall 2016
Alphabet City does not condemn nor condone the consumption of words.
She couldn’t
remember which
we’d said we’d want
so she brought both
calliopes as well
as kaleidoscopes how
wonderful they went
hand-in-hand
Chagall 2016
Keep moving
we must follow
every drop of ray
must fall – alight
make truer yet
the glow of our skins
we are all
beautiful people
in sunset
tomorrows
wax deliciously
like sunrise – all new days
that’s what hope
looks like blind
faith keeps coming
long the day after
angle me so
I can watch
the last fade
of the light
Chagall 2016
