Quickly before the fire dies
leaving us in darkness
I need to see your face
the round of your cheek
soft lash holding
a bead of tear
Chagall 2015
Quickly before the fire dies
leaving us in darkness
I need to see your face
the round of your cheek
soft lash holding
a bead of tear
Chagall 2015
I breathe heavy after an iamb
I tucker after a couplet
and now they’re talking stanza!
Chagall 2015
Your majesty, let this be writ today
Cineri gloria sera est
Glory paid to ashes comes too late
In waltz
cotton parasols like white petals
pirouette on open bud
spun this swaying lady
In tango curvy, nay brilliant
bryllyg and slythy
a perfect silhouette
A fantail shuffle
a slide-step past the moonlight
your finest top-shelf anything really
may your night be forever early
Chagall 2015
In this more recent age
of high-tech thievery and thuggery
I find myself more and more
missing my grandma, simpler days.
Chagall 2015
They repeated
No, no thought
Contented, I’d given up
trying to tell them
All things at once
is the same thing
Chagall 2015
She fell from the branch
immediately shaping a figure S
then soared on a wing full of air
while I remain here unamused
lacking desire to fly
Chagall 2015
She said
I’m a frigging avatar
who’s gonna know?
I told her
I’d know.
To which she smirked
then faded.
Chagall 2015
I will kiss your face
while you try not to giggle.
Who’s game?
Chagall 2015
Sometimes I right-click, toggle the Language
to some exotic setting, then I travel
vicariously through font and accented characters
I wax eloquent, coerce my prose forward
on-line editing is friendly that way
I am riding the metro my dear, I will be home
to our small flat in that city where the Language
has a large following of speakers
I am fluent, the years have treated you well
how I still love embracing you every night
I say I love you in every language possible
as a ritual every night I’m compulsive that way
it takes hours I know I’m sorry
I will right-mouse-click us out of this jam pronto
Chagall 2015
I’ll find peace
in my mind
I seek freedom
outside
May birds forever
fly
Sun for all
upturned faces
Rain
to quench thirst
I’ve my own sliver
of moon
Chagall 2015