Tag Archive: David Bohm


A Wry Rise

Light will guide me back
To ascension, a view from above,
Lofty gray weightlessness,
Ethereal suspension among birds
Of distinction, marked no longer
By petty ways, now only grand schemes
To return one again to a state of grace,
To engulf my self, to imbibe as well
The liquid of life, thus to hang in the balance,
Neither here nor there as it should be, to be
Either actually is a penchant unchained still linked
To time, once blinded I sensed the fence surrounding
Me so I blinked and clicked my heels, an attempt to awaken,
To rise, to ascend, score a view from above in the lofty gray.

Weightless.

© Chagall ∞

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Harmonize

I surf the voices in my head;
god let me land on one today
that I can live with, through
whom I can experience joy.

Instead, I fall through the
perforation that maps me topologic.
I am beneath the ice that I see cracked
everywhere, so … onward to the light!

I have left frozen lakes behind before.
The plush forest before me fills green with oxygen.
The errant calls, caws of life, pop from the canopy.
Arid sunlight, warm air, fills my face, my lungs, respectively.

We are moist and saline creatures with our own special scent of talc,
with eyes accustomed to deep focal points, we scan horizons.
Sadly, we discard all that we are so to be who we might,
astride upon waves with legs getting stronger everyday.

© Chagall ∞

Sleepwalkers

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Assorted somnambulists are dropping by
to wish me pleasant dreams.

© Chagall 2015

Always A Kiss

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Last night while gazing at the Pleiades
you remarked that at the time of light leaving
the cluster of sister stars, three hundred
light years away, Bach was newly appointed
concertmaster at the Weimar, and you and I
lay still unfolded, lovers of implicate order.

© Chagall 2014

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I thought I probed the depths
for the right words

to find I am essentially unaware
that I am twice removed

from the truth below the bubbles
but buoyant

despite a payload
of heavy ballast

I’m a hale and hearty
bottom feeder

who really isn’t
at all

just a background hush
an undertow

a current
an eddy

a relic
of implicit order

the mystery around
the actual

around the real
I name

through words
I’ve probed

in search
of nameless things

© Chagall 2014

The Nation As Thought

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I ran to the border
and found no line
no visible boundary
between here and there

the others seemed
us

such an odd place
for division

like mimes we palmed
the imaginary wall
brick by brick
both we and they
occasionally brushing
fingers, such delightful
and forbidden tingle

he of the gray robe
I of the white

now
we both don blue
and stand guard
with pink erasers

© Chagall 2014

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