. . . Hello? . . .
Will I be jumping
into the light now?
Anybody?
I would like to be
the next one to jump!
. . . hello? . . .
Chagall 2016
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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
Have you considered recently
refurbishing your haberdashery
or buying a brand-new commode, maybe armoire?
Some words must be paired
as fine wines vis-à-vis
fish or chicken.
Grassy, picked too young –
this one’s a hint of chocolate.
Barring any unforeseen outcomes
I’ll bet the barista falls madly in love
long before we reach five stanzas.
Chagall 2016
I remember now as a child
the sense of falling
Not down on my knees
but plummeting
Earth was falling, hurtling through space
and I was attached to the Earth
My Mother held me tight
while the wind tunneled about us
though stars receded, secure I grew
to ignore the fall
I remember now as a child
that sense of falling
Chagall 2016
They tell me that to live
you need full sunlight
So I gather you up, I take you
room to room
In winter too we search for light
east to west on a slight deep arc
we’re pitched more shallow
Where nurture is wan
we work harder for more
Time sometimes casts no shadow
I’ve found from time to time
yet I always feel I’m walking
beneath something
What is that thing
we’re walking under?
Full sunlight means there’s little time
for spending shadows if one’s to live
so let’s live it
find light in every darkness around
by doing so you will become light
by doing so you become light
by doing so become light
by doing so – light
intense
beautiful
reflective
sentient
being
Chagall 2015
No rattle less hum –
breathless longer than planned
she glides with the softest
of leads less than air really
Les couloirs
she says pointing, excites many meanings
She knows I pretend I’m unsure
that I’ve heard her correctly
Chagall 2016
Words are the distance
from the sensate in my mind now in yours
Across the miles postmarked
whispers in a letterbox
I will shake you healingly
but maybe not lovingly
Listen – grab that
it’s a tale of umbilical proportions
I imagine that clay works
very much the same way
Chagall 2016
Before time there wasn’t only
incessant heartbeat
Humans though water are merely steam
no less of all things
The moment before you knocked
the door swings open wide: you arrive
The ones already in search continue
long before you’re here
And wordless reads best
though you can’t remember
I relish the sizzle
when we meet ice
How we burn
underneath the numb
Chagall 2016
At every step of the process I sample,
first the raw sweet dough,
the loaf once baked, sliced,
baked twice (one side), flipped
twice-baked (both sides)
plain then iced then dunked
homemade biscotti
Chagall 2016
I asked her was it
real bamboo – the bambusa multiplex sort
she said no, she did not think so
and was I referencing zappa
about the poncho, was it real –
a mexican or a sears poncho?
I said no, I didn’t think so
but bamboo grows big
it’s good to know
especially if you live upstairs
above all when it rains
Chagall 2016
Alphabet City 