Alphabet City

I strung my guitar 
with very light strings,
left it outside for the wind to play

Joy
sorrow
complacency
foreboding

all in the very first verse

Chagall 2020

...and all the things that I would do,
on this final day go undone

Chagall 2020

I'm not quite sure yet if I fear death,
for I've excelled in end-games till now

how odd to carry this voice inside,
still odder to be disembodied

afloat among meadows, amid almond trees

ah, to be a pollinator burgeoned with pollen 
from star-flowers, asleep on the morning petal

with nothing to dew

Chagall 2020

I could always excite more buzz
than there really was, more Saturdays a week than 
just two, more full moons monthly than the usual handful,
this eternal and repeating last kiss

I once brought starlight to wonder,
a willow to her knees, a vernal pool to tears

I've gone through four pairs of feet from dancing
too many nights away, too many years ago

I can still sense you when I exhale,
in that warm deep rush of air, 
the aroma of lingering touch

I will always defer going to sleep 
in favor of living on

Chagall 2020

To the hummingbird I am 
the Provider of the Nectar,
the god behind the fine porch screen,
the shiny egg-shaped being who carries 
the bright red feeder

Chagall 2020

They don't even make loved ones
like they used to

Chagall 2020

The dog's name was Winifred,
Winnie for short, but my Mom called her Winnifer'
like Jennifer, because...well, that's just how my Mom was.

Chagall 2020

In the rays of today's afternoon star,
all sorts of insects everywhere 
pause to nap while they suckle 
luscious nectars

Butterflies, hummingbirds, large fuzzy bumble bees,
bump among the giant zinnia where the damselflies dance,
electric-blue diamond needles

The world is a song of bright yellows 
and chiffon baby's breath, without a mar,
a loam scent so deep, a breeze from nowhere so warm

...nary a mar

Chagall 2020

The most subtle tickle inside my head
lets me know that I'm not dead

Chagall 2020

I opened the doors to all of the rooms
to better confine the dog to any one space;
now she just lies wherever, doesn't bark,
doesn't follow me compulsively wherever I go, 
knowing she can come (or not) as she pleases

Chagall 2020