She’d shown me how to use the stars and so I found my way back home,
a simple path along the belt really, a dip rather than a rise at Hyades,
you’ll find me a hand-span below the Pleiades, more over your head,
one must marvel still at the intense lights of Rigel, Betelgeuse, and Sirius.
© Chagall 2015
I do so want to tell you something,
that will make you reach out
across the light, the page plus the miles,
you’ll recall the moment we felt
despite never meeting, truth is the same time
yet a different face for two people
from the same orb rounding the same star,
or do we just fall steady? I forget
which gravitation I’m in on this go-around,
while you’re about me I twirl in wonder, more
turvy than topsy, surely I will find you somewhere
firmly on ground with a strong sudden urge to take flight.
© Chagall 2014
When whoever I am shall die,
the need for persistence to be
ceases, without desire to resurrect,
then I can be certain to understand
the love that exists without me.
I am without pain in ceaseless abandon
to the current, regretting when I miss me.
So much joy at the tipping point of sorrow,
my action is my will for us to be timeless.
© Chagall 2014
Behind the lullaby
celestial harmonic
breathy reeds beyond
the expanse there
billows life in bubbles
the multiverse born
of placenta from nil
inverts as blown glass
to become life like diamonds
on black velvet and God’s
throaty voice is every tone
and angels are arpeggios
© Chagall 2014
The bells of the new day joyously ring –
correction, triumphantly rang! – while
cold winds swept the whitest clouds
to the threshold of endless azure
and they and I in echelon bank hard
in a yaw and vertical dive till
ceremoniously, in quiet accord we right
to the ringing bells
© Chagall 2014
Under pale blue sky
I sense the holy
in gilded leaf,
stained glass amber,
muted green cool shade,
amazed to find
a cathedral even here
© Chagall 2014
When I’m small I am the speck
looking out at angels
On the other hand it’s Me
peering down
© Chagall 2014
Welcome to
the digital world
inept and so unable to ape
the too-smooth edge where figure meets ground
it’s a soft meld where heart beats soul
these things aren’t yet
pixel-ready
© Chagall 2014
The question they posed
was given one cloth
would you wipe from
clean to dirt?
© Chagall 2014
They said in time all things would heal
still I journey to get out of time
I’m a scant glance askew sidled by its door
awaiting it to open
To slip stealthily through
at no time
© Chagall 2014
Alphabet City 