I
I mention it’s about 10 per week or so,
enough to get the point across,
but not enough to skew it.
II
I tell her my shoulders hurt real bad,
she says I’ll start at the bottom, work up.
III
I remember nothing but overwhelming comfort
pressing in from all sides.
© Chagall 2015
Alight! These thoughts
tossed warmly burst
tendrils so cloudy so close
to the ground, spry will o’ wisps
flutter in filigree pattern, etched
in time, impressed on the gray
so simply, I place it aside, in a box.
Suddenly all of the world is a prism.
© Chagall 2015
I’ve a sense that I can heal,
perfectly settle in form, for all the flaws
are just misconceptions of me by me,
how I dwindle in size, halving the distance,
keeping one eye open and the other turned deaf ear.
© Chagall 2015
I have come to let the truth guide me,
taking care to be tactful when that would be difficult
for those around me still living in lies to accept.
© Chagall 2015
That which is unspeakable
indeed is the perfect poem.
© Chagall 2015
Afloat social nets
We value cold illusion
Compressed in our shells
© Chagall 2015
Listen to that silence
how it drowns out the sound
of rain, each droplet lost
forever in its din.
© Chagall 2015
I miss how as a child
I’d wake up afraid of the dark
Convinced that something was out there
© Chagall 2015
I am not Carlos
nor am I the person
who pretends to be
Carlos. She is not
me, I tell myself
I’m not like her,
of the haunting grin,
with seeming knowledge
of my delicate whispers,
scribed by her spectral hand.
© Chagall 2015
March 14, 2015, 9:26 and 53 seconds, a.m. and p.m.,
pi will be represented to 10 digits: 3.141592653.
Bah! I say. Why stop at mere seconds? Let’s decompose further
Beyond to deci centi milli micro nano pico femto atto zepto yocto
Sub-divisions of seconds, touch all of pi’s digits: infinity resides in the moment
© Chagall 2015
Alphabet City 