I have decided to eat fewer homemade donuts,
therefore I will need to make fewer batches,
thereby saving me time.
Chagall 2019
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There are chords my guitar has never played,
yet is perfectly capable of doing so.
Chagall 2019
She said, “I really like music,
I’m even considering getting a tattoo.”
Chagall 2019
He smacked the turntable, the needle tracked
its scratch deep across the vinyl, over the club’s speakers –
amplified – it sounded like a buzzsaw whipping through the center of the building
What have you guys been smoking?
he screamed
I leaned over and offered “…or not,
sounds more like it to me.”
Chagall 2019
All vices involve
a tickle
Chagall 2019
If you have to remove the oblongata,
if you really gotta, I told the doctor
just the other day, then do it, I know
you’re gonna do it, so do it already
if you gotta
Siamo d’accordo,
Godspeed, till nerve messages
pass this way again; the road least travelled
I vow: no poems left behind,
every dead synapse and lost memory
is a note-to-self to write an ode,
construct a new lyric, find another vein
O’ what a lode we tap in this web we weave-o,
out, out, you momentary flickers, shadows thrown by footlights
I remember when once we were coy,
rarely beguiled as such since
And to think I almost thought that some mention of me
would make sense here
I would throw it all away for the right sway
in time, long glides on spongy floors, all of our limbs forsaken
in little boxes of meter
And then what?
Work with me to isolate the desperation of that last question
And now what?
One cannot traipse where there is no floor,
or so the Buddha in me appears to want to emphasize,
despite being appropriately hoofed and choreographed
One can always mention the lack of any making
as a statement confirming some making, if only
by its meandering self-reference
Once I juggled a galaxy, the details way too small and infinitely numbered
to describe in the space we are allotted here
And so you must trust me – create a fair coin-toss
without ever having met me
What say you – heads or tails?
Chagall 2019
The rabbit told me they loved the snow,
the warm underground, dark and quiet
save the sound of restful breathing.
Chagall 2019
We don’t need a new list – I shouted –
what we do need is a list of locations of previous lists!
Chagall 2019
it’s amazing how few people
draw flowers correctly – see
the fractal emerge from the page,
sentient and postured
a few delicate strokes as needed
to render the chlorophyl,
pistil and stamen
I watch carefully how form inverts
along the optic nerve to become
a weight of the heart, life between two pages
a boutonniere where the mind was,
mandala for a dollar, a dozen for ten
the rose and the baby’s breath,
sky-blue mums amid perfectly serrated evergreen leaves
dabbing crisp stems in cold water
sunlight on pink petals surpassed
only by sunlight on wood
I am defined by the curlicue,
the cowlick of life atop freckled smiles,
where water and earth combine to push
all of the lush seed wide open
to emerge and say hello to
this day of days
Chagall 2019
…it resembled the inscription
of the Egyptian cryptologist,
a cartographer’s worst nightmare –
spilled ink, worn more for wear than comfort,
the rhyme revered even then but not for long,
despite inclinations to the contrary and out of the ordinary
the rumpled cloth did look like a rat, I’ll grant you that,
but not enough to draw a throwing knife – and in such a confined space –
my God, who knows now which lines were intended to be what!
In the melee of the poem, one must always watch for
a snatch at the ballocks
Chagall 2019
Alphabet City 