Tag Archive: humanity


Trigger

I’m exploring why this one particular
poem of my own makes me cry.

© Chagall ∞

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 ∞

 

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 ∞

Non Dual

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 ∞

Calliope for Satie

She is comprised solely
of essential oils, lovely
silken flow, pistons in valve
lubricant, stamens on pistil,
pollen swollen anthers, she wills
the will of the wisp to do
her bidding, she calls sweetly
through the nightbird, coopts
its thin coiled chord to vocalize,
to trill appoggiatura.

I relax limb and tenon about her,
promenade on wrists and knees:
gymnopédie as it was meant to be,
arched, pointed, and flexed.

© 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 ∞

For St. Thomas

Death is not absolute for those who stand above, outside
where spirit begets body – the wonder, not where body begets spirit,
for that would be a wonder of wonders.

© 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 ∞

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