I cherished
those youngest days
so lush, wet with life,
implicate order and hope.
Chagall 2015
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Colored beads cover every atom of her surface
skin to halo collisions create misty aura
En pointe her tenons convey the brace of hearts,
on flex she sighs as she stretches that about her which is ground –
not earth, but the space against her figure where existence breaks into outline
against the void she enables
She hurtles through space, falls at the same pace
as mystifying tendencies there on the outskirts
My fingers trace her hem to a chorus of Amen
remnants of older chants echo about us
There is sadness in her beauty
melancholia piques her desire
We find random wonderful happenstance
perfect such that there’s no need for change
so we will time to stop to persist every aspect
to christen Us as timeless
Together we as twin stars bare
heavier atoms still
Chagall 2015
How I cherished those youngest days
so lush, wet with life,
implicate order and hope.
Chagall 2015
I fear we’re becoming
people who have no concern
for those who succeed us
Instead we live for the moment
without an obligating sense
to make Gaia inheritable
Similarly there are those
who have no reverence
for those who precede us
Family, tradition, culture and mores
reduce to biology resembling nothing
more than a gene pool
May they drown in the shallow end
Chagall 2016
There are high tones
in all things about her
Smell, sound, taste,
touch, sight
Her presence brings quick arousal,
awareness that life starts here
As her dimensions deepen
I find myself more
mystifyingly immersed
Oddly – sadly –
perhaps it is time
to part
Chagall 2015
A word, a blank page no more;
this is where couplets end.
From hereon in
strange waters.
The next view must speak louder
than nothing – if not, why bother?
Pictures are an option
just not here.
Help me to pluck ideas
from all these implicit ellipses.
Chagall 2016
When I am tired but inspired
I turn minimalism
Chagall 2015
I have memories
of being in echelon
which means that at one time
I must have flown
I can feel
where wings connected
between biceps and pectorals
the backward sweep of deltoids
to where flight would have taken hold
like a clamp
we hang low in the pocket in the rush of fresh air
hundreds of feet high in a V across calibrated
stagger as if random we bank in a frolic
as one gaining air on the others steep turns
tightly so much torque but our bodies are made
for bending flexing near breaking
Our hearts are different
not so resilient, they snap
because they’re unforgiving
Chagall 2016
. . . Hello? . . .
Will I be jumping
into the light now?
Anybody?
I would like to be
the next one to jump!
. . . hello? . . .
Chagall 2016
Too much optimism is cloying
while actuality is not quite as stark
as the realists might think
There is truth in the ground
but one needs to make figure
go away to see dark matter
The two profiles are the urn
a kiss creates then spills an ewer of honey
making for sticky back and fore grounds
Your aroma is metal, flinty
yet underneath sweet like talc
provoked aflame you are caramel
Stretched, kept in contact too long we fuse
the undersides along the length of our arms
our bellies plus our thighs adhere
Erasing the lines that define us
we become amorphous form with shading
Chagall 2016
Alphabet City 