I am cold tall pine
Terns bank away in echelon
God braces mid-air
Chagall 2019
Tag Archive: God
The little engine that could,
minuscule humans who might,
worlds cry that shouldn’t,
cosmos states thou shan’t,
God who simply is, then isn’t,
but was, at least for now
Chagall 2019
i return to my device and the word application asks
want to save? implying my previous work unsaved,
i reply Yes for i trust my earlier self enough
to have made some excellent changes
Chagall 2017
Once in a landslide
I came to the edge
two steps away
from the fall
Carefully balanced
as if on trapeze
I prayed for
the crumble
To fall steady down
wind from anywhere
Anyone who cared could tell
I’d been asleep for a while
One final fingertip
scratches the ground
catching my breath
precedes free fall
then gravity
sinking, no water fills in the space
between me and the sky I float
down parting ways
Astride this time
unlike any I’ve ever ridden
must be the final wave
In crisp articulation
impressed on bottom sand
Running wild water angels
Awake in their trace
I lie down
© Chagall ∞
Same bug’s been on the screen for hours now
basking in sun luxuriant as I. I no longer
desire to swat You with my towel
for we are one.
© Chagall ∞
What do you most need to hear right now,
and what do I ache to tell you?
Your very existence suffices, it’s all Is.
Our options: there is no God; there is no You;
You are God; there’s Nothing but God.
Choose one or the other,
all or not; it’s one in the end.
I yearn to
return to the Ordinary immersed in colors, deeply absorbed
in light extraordinaire, the water not the wave.
I shed the boundaries, address what is there beyond me –
the other – as You inclusive of me. I switch the wires,
so to speak. I co-opt all of existence, call it my own.
Creation is a figure cast like a rainbow upon my ground,
just a stone’s throw from joy.
© Chagall ∞
Stars burned bluer then
Breathless joyful morning songs
God today made man
© Chagall 2016
Sweet potato by Melissa drying
together in one heap.
I make a one-cup dough everyday,
roll it or fill it.
We’ve seawater still on our fingertips,
a crust of hot crystal salt.
I’m different – you said,
through the open window – I’m the one looking up.
You were late. I watched you gather lilac and lace
by the unlatched gate.
Your breathing stills matter about the fire,
all being is cured aromatic.
And so able to last
forever.
© Chagall 2016
The universe is staging
a trillion-photon march on creation
to show us how solidarity’s done
Anywhere that light is
that’s where you’ll find me
© Chagall 2016
Consider that
there is
no God
All birds sing
of their own
volition
Albeit
a sadder tune
There is
no echo
nor refrain
No joyous
hallelujah
A lonely lilt
on empty branch
© Chagall 2016
Alphabet City 