maybe the world’s hatred manifests as virus,
the reaping of what is sown, after all
these follow the seasons
just like
crops
Chagall 2020
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to the man behind the camera
who captured all my sunny daze,
the moments for which I’d be
most proud
who knew enough
to put it down when I needed more
with a mystique still
such that I question ever having known him,
his ever having been at all
so fleeting are the days
these days
Chagall 2020
I told her to forget about the electric guitars,
bring only the acoustics with nylon strings,
along with the beans, the millet, the jerky
And your great-grandmother’s Caruso records?
she asked
Where we were heading, there would be no technology,
no way to ever hear again the century-old sounds
So I said
Take those, leave half the rounds of ammo behind
Chagall 2020 – E non ho amato mai tanto la vita
under the blankets
deep dark, thick air
I burrow,
search for a heartbeat
once there
I feel
the earth in freefall
the ground rushes up
gravity pours down
heavier today
(in the home movie she is young again, runs with her kite,
the long string trails behind her, goes from slack to taut,
she laughs with each lift off the ground, in flight
sometimes for only a moment, the tail gracefully arcs,
banking on an old wind)
Chagall 2020
with my bible and the Book of Chords
I hunker down to write new psalms
praise to the unfailing mountains,
the rocks, the fortress, the deliverer
the chords of death encompass me
as I reel and rock these nights away
the brightness of the day turns dark
in a rain of guided arrows
I brace my body against the stone
reaching up, no rope just hope to guide me
a mere piton slip away from the fall
and we are rewarded
according to the cleanness of our hands
blameless and righteous
for real, humble
for whom is a rock
Chagall 2020
I wish I could stop running
hot water all over my hands
to wash away the tiny invaders
I wish I could stop caring
about who is breathing
down my neck and in my space
I wish the most important item
on my shopping list was once again
confetti non-pareils
I wish you all health and safety
for you and loved ones
Chagall 2020
English as her second language,
she told me that she heard
the immortality rate was very high
I whispered to myself
that I certainly hoped so
Chagall 2020
we the first born of the recently dead
kneel before her
in her eyes are seven stars
beholden to only She
oldest blue sky lost
in lakes of glass
where rainbows crystallize
at the instep of an amber foot
with those there
I take no exception
hear that?
the clarion call
Chagall 2020
on a line by the rocks
I hang my socks to dry
stomping in puddles of warm rain
has become my latest passion
despite it being out of fashion
for any person my age
nowadays
between two chairs I drape the shawl
my Mother swaddled me in, to make a fort
to keep me safe, to shield me from the storm;
any port
tiny cereal boxes and a stack of comic books so high
will keep me amused throughout the day
come whatever may or may not
April showers somewhere, and someday June is married
with breathless guests along the aisle
strewn with roses and lavender
but not today
in the loft an elderly paisana sings
as she did from that balcony high over Nola
her song to the fields of lilies below
the cymbals crash,
the leader of the feast bellows
A zo ta zo!
and we lift the Gigli high
on our shoulders
with God on our backs
high atop this obelisk
the world is plain in view
barefoot she runs through
rain-streaked streets near Naples
belly distended, the brio of youth fast behind her
with a blanket drawn about her
nowhere bound
Chagall 2020
At the apogee, there is no tension, no tug
and the rainbow is weightless, arcing
freefall back to the planet
Hits hard on the water, in that instant
half in and out, to descend buoyantly
finally to rest silent and spent
Immersed in cool rush
on the soft polished stones
at the bottom
The run of the stream is halted
froze Time
still pulses
Caws of large birds startle the silence,
with reedy bleats to mock the passing
of now
The long taper of the fisherman
carves graceful serpents in the air,
undulates overhead, uncoils,
lays his leader down on the eddy,
a ripple, a mar on the tranquil surface
See it? There! Just above us…
Chagall ∞
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