Merely an experimental malaise
spiraling numbly, likewise nimbly
the lame slither askew off the walkway
while naked dancers waltz precariously
too close to be social.
Chagall 2015
Merely an experimental malaise
spiraling numbly, likewise nimbly
the lame slither askew off the walkway
while naked dancers waltz precariously
too close to be social.
Chagall 2015
I am screaming inside the wind tunnel
My fear a step before me always
I slide away down the aileron
I think I’ve eluded it but it’s there
Suddenly the diameter about me shrinks
I’m as stuck and clogged as I’m inside-out
Flapping rapidly a flag on a pole
I relish the maniacal cold tornado forming
Concentric debris pellets my froth
I am squeezed to projectile blessed to be carbon
Chagall 2015
The gods came out of the water, paired in twos,
steam rising, their bodies already dry,
strong intent awake in their eyes, sacred defiance,
twins regaled in silk and gentian, he and she
beginning to copulate right there on the shore,
begetting each a greater God before perishing,
leaving the spawned throng of the heavens there
alone on the sand, arching, rearing, and bellowing.
And so was Day 1.
© Chagall 2015
With little water for many weeks, today I found a small cactus
sprouted soft and smooth-skinned tendrils, still green, alive
like the curly hair of a young child, the candy-apple scent of talc
behind the ears, so many years ago; I gaze at it here on my palm
and hope it remains evergreen.
© Chagall 2015