I have lunch everyday
on the last remaining
Blue Ridge plate from
the set, apples on a
stem – I remember when
they were all brand new,
un-chipped, unused, so
much life still ahead.
Chagall 2020
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I said, “Babe, could you make fresh coffee please?”
He said, “There’s still some leftover in the thermos from the morning.”
I said, “Okay, thanks. I’ll go wring out some shit and drink that instead.”
He laughed. I laughed.
Siri laughed.
Chagall 2020
Betelgeuse dims,
Orion’s bold imprint against the night lessens
When the star burns out
the face of heaven will change
Moments we miss for not looking up
where stars die every day
There is more empty space,
less matter than appears
(she is more distant)
to be
We perish once
every lifetime
With infinite stars it is likely
one dies each tick of time
Constellations adapt to new sky,
radiance catches up over the years
People change
Chagall – 2020
egyptologists have scraped
from inside old urns
four thousand
five hundred
year old
yeast
from which they’ve baked bread,
crusty and tasty as an ancient jadda
Chagall 2020
my music appears
to delight the birds
the winter cardinals especially
perk up in earnest
a soundtrack to backdrop
their colder notes
a single breath-trilled phrase
mingles in icy snowfall
quieter these days
song exits the woods
through a hole in the refrain
I chance to breathe
to partake of that
into which I am born
Chagall 2020
this weekend while away I dreamed I could fly
but only through windows with sashes pulled down,
dimmed blue sky
sometimes frantically caught in corridors
gasping for air, seeking egress
and I awake – I believe –
to return home to find
a sparrow barely breathing
behind the porch screen
did I dream your dream last night?
searching for you out of windows
drawn down to nothing but sky forever twilit
somewhere between Ochre and Indigo
Chagall 2020
I said
While our styles differ,
you, the earthly sublime,
I, the absurdly surreal…
she finished
…we ultimately say the same thing
Chagall 2019
at night, next to you
in bed, lights out,
in total darkness,
I listen to hear
you breathe, so alone
I feel, I wonder
if you are really there
under the blankets,
someday I know
the silence will go
unbroken
Chagall 2019
perfectly flawed
we are
each unique
delectable circles
of candy beaded
strung and strummed on strings
of life
long and strong
may you live
my friends
Chagall 2019
In a bedroom dark
the outline of our window
lies there on the quilt
perfectly etched in moonlight
a portal to another world
I’m certain
as I sidle a-rump over
drop myself into its panes
and free fall
into the down of time
I see you there on the other side
peering through the glass
above me, only stars
have had this vantage
love’s a sill
on which I rest
between bouts
of such rapid descent
entangled
in velvet curtain stays
you used to draw
the light in
On my side it’s cold
but I’m too far away
for my breath to fog
the glass
Dashed hopes
for finger-traced hearts
and comic book Eros
You recede
you’re a constellation
whose shape takes form more clearly
as distance grows between us
I can see you now
the epitome of what
you’ve purported to be
all along
My love, my discovery
so I believe I’ve the right
– perhaps I’m even obliged –
to name you
The slightest tear in the moonlight
leaves jagged cracks
with each daybreak I lose forever
my best and only way back
Chagall 2013/2019
Alphabet City 