We were the last,
sad you don’t remember,
the high cliffs overlooking
an ocean, I can’t recall
its color, but the salt mist
remains upon my tongue, as if
the name of a newborn, like
sparks at the edge of vision
And now we are the first to set foot
here on the softest of downs
Chagall 2019
Down the hill, Sara and I tumble gently
heels-over-head, beginning and ending
as the other for somersaults will do that,
grass stains smell greener than they look
smeared across the lips of a grazing young
doe, sun on the neck has never been warmer,
near hot on the back of calves stretched taut
en pointe, mycorrhizae underfoot soothes our soul
for we are not alone in this ancient crazy place
susceptible to life, prone to being alive,
an altar upon which we recite our ode to living,
exalt dark heavens where wisdom is surely actual;
We are always Nature she says as we roll to a stop
at the gate of a beautiful garden.
© The Other ∞
Yeah, about as liberal as my butt.
She doesn’t even compost!
Chagall 2015
I revealed myself, infinite forms
numerous as stars of the sky
in the moment, to which he sought
sanity weeping, begging for me to cease, he’d seen enough:
thus I bestowed wisdom and peace upon young Arjuna.
Chagall 2015
The gods came out of the water, paired in twos,
steam rising, their bodies already dry,
strong intent awake in their eyes, sacred defiance,
twins regaled in silk and gentian, he and she
beginning to copulate right there on the shore,
begetting each a greater God before perishing,
leaving the spawned throng of the heavens there
alone on the sand, arching, rearing, and bellowing.
And so was Day 1.
© Chagall 2015
I knew you as sound, vibration,
a mix of visceral reactions I’d cherish,
each a name I’d disregard
to experience you first hand not twice
removed. To kiss is to dive
is to plunge with no net, is to soar
without ceiling: That’s us below!
Collapsing, ever-folding
within me to a point
that explodes, infinite
lights the wisdom surrounds
without me endless consonant
tone, the frequency
of life, a hush no longer
stillborn, dilating
full prism color deep space
skies black oil universe swimming
and I am grinning across the breadth
expanse from ear to shining seas
of the oldest stars that hover
so wise, beautiful when they cry
the carbon is much sweeter that way
and makes the eternal you, man.
© Chagall 2015
It’s Saturday morning,
I find within my mind
that which allows it
to never slip away.
© Chagall 2015
She and I, so similar – two peas
in separate pods each desiring
the annihilation of the other.
© Chagall 2015
I watched him
over his shoulder
at first not recognizing
the lines, but then I saw
he was drawing asunder,
which I thought was no
longer allowed.
© Chagall 2015
Alphabet City 