Snowflakes large as hope
jazz brushwork lazy on snares
cold slow motion life
© Chagall 2013
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Though I have more than I had
as a kid growing up,
I am poorer
now than ever.
It appears
the world
disappears
to leave
harsh seams.
I wonder:
How many lives ago?
My future builds
affixed to itself
sans blueprint
but the past collects
by design.
Despair to look back
to revel in excitement
one once had to look forward.
I sense
a mosaic of sound and color
forms at the edge.
Behind me or ahead
I’m uncertain,
purely as a matter
of principle.
© Chagall 2013
At that moment
all the lights flickered
and every towel
fell from the wall
Throughout the house
the intense smell of talc
Undoubtedly the work
of very dry spirits
© Chagall 2013
Who knew
making love in the snow
could be like that
The igloo-ish dome
is a brilliant idea!
And point taken –
I totally understand
why that thing you did
requires only the freshest of snows
© Chagall 2013
Great partners listen
play to the others silence
where harmony lives
© Chagall 2013
Chew guggulu gum
at your next hullaballoo
or the Guggenheim
© Chagall 2013
I’ve seen butterflies and hummingbirds
in three-square bulrush
but so far not
a single basket of Messiah
© Chagall 2013
I sense there’s too much elusive
– birds in hand and all that.
I drop the game from my mouth
at the water’s edge
because two is better
than one.
Then
I’ve none.
Behind the scenes of a fable
unable to attain
even one’s share.
Where did Aesop go
when the mammals slept
and the allegory hit the wall,
did he laugh or grumble?
© Chagall 2013
A single footprint
all that wind would oblige her
gulls in cursive vees
© Chagall 2013
From this angle
the dome, the lanai
you without your top
long and carved
in the wet heat
of the canopy
your eyes made up
as peacocks
your breasts
luscious in stretch
Modiglianiesque
© Chagall 2013
Alphabet City 