One day long
ago I lived
with a senorita
who scored
clave-shaker
duets for money
From the window
I shouted
It appears as if
snow is starting
to fall!
She whispered dryly
Then let’s let it
Chagall 2016
Tag Archive: age
We scream at each other
we are art – some say
Whisperers
I hear you
Beat me purple baby
till I’m plumb
Just a kiss away
we’re whisked away
some cabaret
I stand
corrected
I lie
in and on and about
green meadows
Till we fall
softest of all
about them
Chagall 2016
My heart, adept at somersaults,
sticks the perfect landing.
The pain in my knees though tells me that
it’s not that long till fall.
So tape me up
to brace me tight
in time for another go.
Madly to the springboard
without stopping to plant
I soar of my own desire.
I emulate feathers floating
till ground.
To lie there
spying clouds move
up and down as well as left and right.
In motion emotionally always
forever truly yours.
Chagall 2016
I cherished
those youngest days
so lush, wet with life,
implicate order and hope.
Chagall 2015
How I cherished those youngest days
so lush, wet with life,
implicate order and hope.
Chagall 2015
There are high tones
in all things about her
Smell, sound, taste,
touch, sight
Her presence brings quick arousal,
awareness that life starts here
As her dimensions deepen
I find myself more
mystifyingly immersed
Oddly – sadly –
perhaps it is time
to part
Chagall 2015
Quickly before the fire dies
leaving us in darkness
I need to see your face
the round of your cheek
soft lash holding
a bead of tear
Chagall 2015
Your majesty, let this be writ today
Cineri gloria sera est
Glory paid to ashes comes too late
In waltz
cotton parasols like white petals
pirouette on open bud
spun this swaying lady
In tango curvy, nay brilliant
bryllyg and slythy
a perfect silhouette
A fantail shuffle
a slide-step past the moonlight
your finest top-shelf anything really
may your night be forever early
Chagall 2015
In this more recent age
of high-tech thievery and thuggery
I find myself more and more
missing my grandma, simpler days.
Chagall 2015
Late autumn hot
unique humid
sea breezes in-land
colors still ablaze
I a burnt copper
in setting gold sun
reflections, perfect blues.
Chagall 2015
Alphabet City 