I’ve had it with fluorescent lights, filing cabinets,
Outlook, meetings, deadlines, deliverables, mindless drivel,
the drive for money money money.
I need open skies, fields of green, no pressure, nature,
my own hours, a way to get back to things that matter.
(sigh) Mexicans have all the best jobs.
Chagall 2015 – with love to all Latin people
I have maintaining and gaining down pat
Got a 65 on my orals
Chagall 2015
Consider: not some but all Yeti sightings
are actually hairy large men
who on a drunken dare
are streaking through the wetlands.
Chagall 2015
I delude myself to believe
that you actually read what I write.
Chagall 2015
And when she passed away
rather than fighting with the rest
over money and land and bangles,
I was adamant, insistent that I
would get her recipes, her Guardian Service,
that picture of her with Pop at the Copa,
the perennials from her garden.
Chagall 2015
I wish I was a ventriloquist
At least I’d have someone to talk with
Chagall & Mortimer 2015
(Carlos, okay to go back in the box now?)
Grip you
pull yo . . .
oh boy, I can see
I’ve already lost you
No?
. . . u in.
Chagall 2015
Does anybody
any longer
yet dot their j?
Chagall 2015
She asked if I thought I could fix it
I said sure, your Hotspot is off
A simple hand gesture to toggle that button
Should make all your blues go away
Olé!
Chagall 2015
I see trails, no light incites them
across weary eyes’ dull cones
the aftermath of her once, seen now gone
a fragrant sight, a dulcet taste
a sonorous breath, avalanches of undisturbed
moments froze tick steadily, the incessant sound
of no breathing, pulses of heartache
always forever on never an offbeat
splendor in the sere grass, shoes kicked off
dust kicked up, hopes kicked in dashed Kewpie’s knocked down
on ancient boardwalks calliopes beckon the lights
incite the trails that streak my vision
comet extinction, another time around
Chagall 2015
