Tag Archive: Bohm


Dearest Gaia

I pour water into the earth to watch it dissipate and percolate,
wondering where does the time go. The backs of my beach shoes

worn flat from my habit of not slipping in all the way,
my bare feet on warmed wood slats tell me I’m more alive now,

the sun underfoot, I am square, balanced atop the regolith,
a planet that spins and falls amid a din that I no longer hear,

the world that I see

as I follow the fan of my hand, implies all that there is
or nothing, depending solely on who I am, or no one.

© Chagall ∞

Wholly Holy Black Hole

I will write free verse
of the universe, letters as galaxies,
implied points clear as constellations,
stars appear closer than they seem
when seen from light years away across
the paragraphs. I invert my event horizon
to search within and strew about the detritus
of my being, hence this ramble, these lines,
served up on the tines of synapse.

© Chagall ∞

Perforation

With moral north poles pointing everywhere
I instead choose to fold inward along the
outline of every petal of my being.

© Chagall ∞

Everywhere Outstretched

In this room of southerly light
are objects more precisely defined
than abstraction – concepts
topographically smoothened by
the erosion of ground around figure,
bulbous impressions upon my tactile cortex
is touch.

© Chagall ∞

Überblick

Each sense has a cache of
residual reality
attention!
not memory at-work at all,
just dimming glows, we filter
the actual,
we choreograph the quintet,
low-capacity volatility,
mosaic,
iconic,
saccadic.

© Chagall ∞

Aum

A game of inches, halftones someday maybe
just a fingertip away from grasp, the thinnest
side of a prism edge, a place where souls slip
but not slide, inter-inter for one inter does not
suffice to suggest the slight of gap, the sleight
of the blue that is nearly blue, monochrome
intervals are what we are, variations in theme,
grande motif, leitmotif, light years away from any
home.

© Chagall ∞

Chakra

Infinitesimally minute circles of being
align, vortex along one malleable cortex.
I am distributed, I am a planetary system,
I hum prismatic with colors of sound primordial.

© Chagall 2017

Veering Southeasterly

Through the south-facing window I see the eagle fly
till the edge of the pane, so I run to the east
to espy her in contiguous flight but she is nowhere to be seen.
I return to find that the window is gone as well.

© Chagall 2017

Lesson 1

You told me
the objects about us had
names that marred luminosity
so beware the symbol, embrace the actual.

© Chagall 2016

Quiet

Still here.

I and the air are
still here.

Faint hum,
a seashore … a dynamo
maybe.

Tickles:
inside my head.

A hushed voice speaks
of a hushed voice
who speaks.

I command them both
to shush.

© Chagall 2016

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