Tag Archive: actuality


Acapella

I hear music in wind and machines, voices in the trees,
harmony amid the sleek hum of gears finely-tuned,
who vibrate on cilia to haunt me, to trace intervals,
motifs of being, a soundscape to mark me aware,
you are the rest between motion, a buoy in time both
solid and bulbous, a weight against storms,
a body of reckoning to counter the onslaught
of melody.

Chagall 2017

Poem 1

In the presence of the timeless
I weep openly

Chagall 2017

i return to my device and the word application asks
want to save? implying my previous work unsaved,
i reply Yes for i trust my earlier self enough
to have made some excellent changes

Chagall 2017

The birds around my home are slower than norm
There is less urgency because of the love and abundance of riches here

Chagall 2017

Sage

Never ever rethink a post once it’s out there
unless it is actually needed

You second guessing
You is hilarious

Chagall 2017

Today, I witnessed and sensed a small bird’s fear
to have a red-shouldered hawk alight
upon an adjacent branch

Chagall 2017

 

Befell

What is there
after you’ve flown?

Where are you
once you touched down?

Careful there on the ledge,
perhaps you’ll not fly again.

How sad to have flown
for the last time.

When up is down
to fall is to fly.

How joyous to have
flown at all.

I’d have thought
clouds to be harder.

I invert when I fly
for I am the sky.

So inwardly
I fall.

Alight on soft pockets
of air.

Dust
on air.

I pray while
I fall.

The whole planet
is falling.

We spin and we turn and
we tilt and we yaw.

The earth rushes to us
once befallen.

© Chagall ∞

Warm Rivulets Between Rills

You remind me of someone you were, how you do that
so perfectly effortless

Evoke the we that we were
cue the salty sea air

Everything about then is beach-washed
designs, that’s how I remember

How could it be otherwise, the
other times we would soar

Just a little
bit more

We remind us
of then

Join me. Inhale – long –
and hold it gently.

© Chagall ∞

Everything is television so be certain to retain an outlet,
a way to get off the air.

© Chagall ∞

 

Preamble

One more morning
I’ll write. Gray,
sure. Air with the
same scent and feel
as that day, you bet.

The need – the ache –
to hold onto anything
that doesn’t slip away.

Perhaps the living is
easy and the writing
tougher.

Sound attests
to the existence of time
as sure as motion does
yet so much timelessness
in the rustle, the whisper
of leaves on canopy branches
high among the zephyrs. I
grow dizzy to imagine myself
there at the top looking down.

Maybe I’ll feel more today and
write less about it, pull in
the shutters, the sash.
Still, here on the inside
I fashion small chips
of graphite into pencil
an essential element
to build strong bones.

With enough sun and love
a stand of kindred spirits
can endure forever.

© Chagall ∞

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