All of the things
I seek to avoid
are wrapped up in
neat tidy bundles.
Chagall 2015
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To love her
is so precisely
weightlessness
Chagall 2015
As a latina
I take exception
to the phrase
White Christmas
How about an Ecru Christmas
or a Beautifully Bronzed
Caramel Lustered
Birthday of the Supreme
Being of your choice?
Frankly, I plan to have
a joyous Christmas
celebrating with my friends (and family)
who are Hindi, Buddhist, Muslim,
Zen, Greek Orthodox, Roman Catholic,
Episcopalian, Presbytes, Jews, Quaker,
Amish, Atheist (Paco, did I miss anybody?)
Wiccan! and that crazy lady down the block
from Puerto Rico with the chicken heads and candles
It will be White – it will be Joyous –
it will be about Christ – and that’s the way it goes.
The year will pass and soon it will be your turn
to celebrate your Being of choice using any colors you like.
Love to all.
Chagall 2015
For a moment I think
it’s snowing till
I realize it is
the frenzy of static
that separates beings
made visible this day
by gray wan light.
Chagall 2015
Barely fingertips
Two hearts well to carve moments
Spied till curves straighten
Chagall 2015
Life is a string of goodbyes
so longs for now
without interim hellos
I leave behind all who I’ve been
for the sake of who I become
with each parting embrace
Richer for the memory I mine
to uncover the nuggets
which fund my perspective
Absolutely
we’ll get together
Forgetfulness –
a life-shaping quality
Chagall 2015
Timeless being first
Then every man and woman
Here is God’s reserve
Chagall 2015
Timeless being first
Then every man and woman
Here’s reserved for Gods
Chagall 2015
Sunday early eve
eastern standard
time
Her parents are old
but still alive
and mine are still
quite dead
We both hang on
we four
Plus others within
our gravity
We call
family
Our love traces
many roots
to get here
We are leaves, we are buds
on a tree growing
Sunday early eve
eastern standard
time
Chagall 2015
She passed, the lady
who crocheted scarves
for favorite toys
Stuffed pandas sported
lilacs and greens
snug against cold
muffled happy in sound
wool splendor
Her nieces and nephews
all loved her
lined up like urchins
in top hat and dragging tails
Life cleaves carved
runners in the snow
they fade behind
or loom before
who is certain
in the blur
crinkle of snowfall
a solitary bell
She nods, beckons
Godspeed, good night
clutching her bag of yarns
Chagall 2015
Alphabet City 