Tag Archive: Environment


For The Gusto

Today I planted four new trees, my goal is
to outlive each of them.

© Chagall ∞

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Thought It’d Be Longer

Can a couplet convey an altering jolt similar to an epic?
How many gods does it take to screw-in a tree?

© Chagall ∞

Looking In

To the birds outside my window today
I am the object behind the screen

© Chagall ∞

The Final Wave

In an instant the sound of the ocean ceased
and in that vacuum nothing remained
save the din of human voices.

© Chagall ∞

 

Prague Noses, My Toes Is

Absent hypothetical lichens
perhaps have Tourettes … unlikely.

© Chagall ∞

Her and Mitosis

Petite organisms traipse ever so tipsily
o’er the photosynthetic landscapes of leaves
on yonder trees and nearby yews, everyone’s doing
the tango, the tangle of photons, lip-locked organelles,
dancing to Miles’s Solar.

© Chagall ∞

Weeping Skies for the First Time

The tapping whisper of rain,
Gulls soar, serifs against the long stretch
Of sky and land, the mosaic face of water,
Morning air, thin and cold, early day
Mist envelops always, hope is desire
To release, to touch the atmosphere,
To mean the words yet to find tongues,
Tone recedes into tones receding, the far edge
Where filaments unravel into the empty, void
Unless stamped otherwise, a puddle to stomp,
A bright yellow-slicker, the tapping whisper
of rain.

© Chagall ∞

Haiku for the Day After

Imagine silence
Barren fields glow red neon
Now torrential rain

© Chagall ∞

Perforation

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

© Chagall ∞

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 ∞

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