Please accept this filament fine,
as I spun it just for you.
The silk that silk envies weaves
a gentle lattice about nothing.
No breeze stirs you suspended
on girders above trip-wire.
Speak! cries out in need
to fill space.
At the end, even now
we can still hear it echo.
© Chagall 2016
As I go
so goeth
a quick step
alongside
yet again
watch me teeter
I catch stride
ambulate cleanly
now and then
sometimes for a pretty long time
oops!
banana peel
yep – my head popped
cement apparently
jarred me looser
I float beside me
in rarefied ether
levitate clearly
now and then
© Chagall 2016
The sounds of night
linger and stray
into morning
This is not
real light
I’m aware
Too faded
perhaps
too bright
Too soon
the day
breaks
The day
brakes
Time slows
I enumerate
each passing
thing
One by
one
I am lost
in implicate order
Purely
of my own design
© Chagall 2016
Delicate is
perhaps
too indelicate
a word for what
i have in mind
it’s much more
misted
nuanced
unveiled
expelled air
barely emerged
ex nihilo
create
state
change
transition
the question:
who you are?
Chagall 2016
I remember now as a child
the sense of falling
Not down on my knees
but plummeting
Earth was falling, hurtling through space
and I was attached to the Earth
My Mother held me tight
while the wind tunneled about us
though stars receded, secure I grew
to ignore the fall
I remember now as a child
that sense of falling
Chagall 2016
Can’t we simply
allow life to be
ebullience?
Chagall 2015
A shooting star
twilit celestial filaments
across my lashes no longer than half-an-inch
yet up there the fantail of light
is twice many billion miles
nearer than your lips and heart
to mine.
We caress at time’s edge
under corona, or maybe it’s umbra
but who’s to say?
Steady pulse
of shade to light
shadow to crown and
you to rain.
We are leaves invert
we are tips of roots
we are that from which all is derived
we are constellations.
We have begat
the universe
that which is
out there
is small.
Chagall 2015
A part of memory,
a nuance I couldn’t describe
that connected that specific aroma
with a certain feeling up-down my arms and legs
throughout my gut a tingle of being alive and timeless
– I felt it again today.
How strange to be outside
looking in.
Chagall 2015
Perhaps I come here once too often
I’m sorry if I exceed my welcome
it’s just so wonderful here –
I never cease to be charmed,
woven by the spell, mystique
ceases to be such if everyday . . .
but it is such! I could spend eternity here
and every moment would forever be more lovely.
Chagall 2015
Alphabet City 