Humanity is the joy
we bring to those
one degree
of separation
away.
Chagall 2016
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Some have laughed
though Inuits espy
the sun doesn’t rise
where it used to
They claim
polar bears
are burning
Through the center
we point now
to different stars
(a more distant spot
in heaven)
They can
no longer
say if tomorrow
will rain
Chagall 2016
I’ve reshaped the constellations
to reflect what I see
I have no interest in
how others see heaven
Makes it so easy
to now know the sky
Chagall 2015
I only have a moment to tell you that
today the air was more electric than before and
the beauty of existence at large is so overwhelming that
I feel alive from my belly up into my neck then
something odd happens in my face and mind
I want desperately to cry, to weep at the wonderful
creatures that are all about, these colors of all senses
How do I tell you all of that in
this our only moment?
Chagall 2016
Somewhat odd occurrence this morning. Yet another example of poets in my Reader writing today about stars. This wonderful post from Literature Is My Porn. Synchronicity? —Carlos
I dip my pen
In the inky black sky
And, watch, mesmerised
As stars burst out
Of the nib
Aligning themselves
Into a mass
Of constellations
As I put my pen
To paper.
-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore
Looks like everyone is writing about stars today. This from Rising Hawk. —Carlos
Woke up today and wrote a poem about stargazing, then went to my reader and found this wonderful poem from tychogirl on stargazing. Synchronicity at play, I’m certain. —Carlos
If I die in the desert after stargazing
know that it was enough, that final view
of stars frozen in their movements
like Van Gogh’s crows
standing out
above the wheatfield
know that I took it in
all at once just as I always did
with stars
a feast
sated.
short
star gazers
long
a
lot
like
the
tall
ones
or are they just farther away?
Chagall 2016
So subtle this thing called language
rears its head above tangled perception
discernible froth we skim cerebral
I prefer raw more sensuous groping
meaningful wordless visceral stew
the lasting poems of impulse
Chagall 2015
The cord
lacks rip
The lash
racks whip
The stick
licks lip
The joy
lacks kill
the vibe
They always do
Chagall 2016
Alphabet City 