I knew you would say that.
Don’t believe me? Look!
I wrote this down in advance –
your words exactly, no?
You’re predictable in that way.
I watch you here from this open field,
you there in your seething cage,
but I will only wait so long.
Chagall 2015
The cut from your cheekbone
to your chinline down your neck
lies the flat plain above your cleavage
where it separates in two perfectly
aerodynamic curves that cannot be comprehended
on graph paper or by formulae
Chagall 2015
The cut from your cheekbone
to the line of your chin down your neck
to the flat plain above your cleavage
where it separates into two perfectly
aerodynamic curvatures that cannot be comprehended
on graph paper or by formulae
Chagall 2015
The cut from your cheekbone
to the line of your chin down your neck
to the flat plain above your cleavage
where it separates into two perfectly
aerodynamic curvatures that cannot be comprehended
on graph paper or by formulae, could only have been
conceived and made real by One who truly knows
the meaning of lust.
Chagall 2015
We all know what healthy tastes and feels like.
Stop being a chubby bastard and do the right thing.
$25.99 at better bookstores.
Chagall 2015
The mirror clearly said msispilos
so I took it and smashed it repeatedly,
vehemently before shocked onlookers
until all I had left was a single splinter
of the handle in my hand.
And that – as they say – is that.
Chagall 2015
So often I am amazed to find
that poets appear
to have the same themes
on their minds
at the very same moment,
all tuned in
to WXYZ
Chagall 2015
Once in a shadow I rose
to greet an inquisitive sun,
yawned and stretched a while
to bask in its hot-white heat
before settling back down
to darkness.
Chagall 2015
Ever go back and read something that you don’t even recognize as your own? Here’s one of those. 🙂 Happy reblog Friday. Peace & Love —Chagall
She said she liked to trace her heart
against sparser white tufts, her etched lines
of cursive flues, hollowed deep and grooved
tight tucks over moguls, small drops to earth
each time gravity curves she bends molten streams
over time embossed so apropos of moments come, but not
whether she’s gone – she’s no time for that.
© Chagall 2015
Here.
I made this for you.
A bouquet of scented words.
Chagall 2015
Alphabet City 