Over time
God becomes
ever more vast
Chagall 2015
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For every bird that you see or hear today, or that ever flew over earth. Peace & Love. —Chagall
Lazy birds sing what sound to be questions,
Trilly lilts angled so oddly in time.
Shush. Hear the hurrahs?
Winds schuss a course of boughs.
Waves atop etchings on sand
Erase traces of what once was.
Beyond, there come the loggers,
Mechanical, Om-like, spun chorales,
Mantra for flat-felled forests:
Erase traces of what was once.
I rush the treeline insanely
Unable to draw enough air
To support the bellow I want to import,
The reply I want to thunder.
To the wood pigeon, grand thrush, paradise parrot,
the heath hen and laughing owl,
the parakeet, grebe and island rail,
piopio, Kauaʻi ʻŌʻō . . .
My chest heaves, I’m a front-row mourner.
Hot eyelids strand gummed tears.
I see the world through rainbows
Cleaved cleanly through
My optic nerve.
I purse my lips, find the bird call in me,
Arpeggiate soulful lament
Cleanly without glissando.
I beg:
Take heed – just…
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A small bird flying overhead
determinedly through the wind
high above is tossed she chirps
desperate to be somewhere
Chagall 2015
If I had to choose
between you and ice cream
I’m pretty sure I would choose you.
Chagall 2015
To indulge the juvenile delinquent
in us, divulge if you would delight
in making out for a moment?
Nothing real crazy
just a peck or too
or three will do.
Nose-to-nose who knows
how far we goes, head to toes
maybe.
We
shirk
all
pressure.
Who knew so little soap
could emit so much lavender.
Chagall 2015
At work I’ve insisted
that my team be staffed
with nothing but ladies
of beautiful color
Our primary mission:
To rock any world
we encounter
Chagall 2015
This weekend I supped
at an all-gay diner
had the special – a BLT,
on the way out I sipped
the house Kool-Aid, been hummin’
Carousel’s soliloquy since
Chagall 2015
An ism or an ology
is not what is
Please don’t think you know me
as I wouldn’t you
There is no fight nor war
if you take the time to ponder
How wonderful we all are
in this our hour of heaven
I’m a Castilian Daoist with romantic charm
so please don’t mar me with label
And I can make a great pierogi, I can make
us see – I think – to begin to see
There is no war nor fight
when one takes the time to wonder
How wonderful we are
Chagall 2015
My “likes” amount to seventeen
like clockwork everyday
Seven at breakfast, five at lunch
and the rest at eve’s respite
My day has become
haiku
Chagall 2015
I continue to search for soft wind
to blow the gentler spirals that were once
aloft above metropolis, pinwheels of fallen dreams
so many ticks on the tape ago, confetti
don’t rain on her parade though it pours on mine
and she and I have no umbrella, just tiny Chinese
parasols we grip between our teeth
to shelter our hearts from the storms approaching,
eddies, torrents, and twisters, so difficult
near impossible, to steal a kiss this way.
Chagall 2015
Alphabet City 