I remember now – once as a child
I had devised a way to forget.
Did I really spring from that?
© Chagall 2015
Tag Archive: life
Assorted somnambulists are dropping by
to wish me pleasant dreams.
© Chagall 2015
So far from the endless fields
of lavender once called home.
© Chagall 2015
My friends who are scarred
are indeed my distinguished colleagues.
© Chagall 2015
My numbers are all messed up.
You’ve denied me twelve times,
monthly really and three times I’ve risen,
leavened, refreshed. I’ve but seven left.
© Chagall 2015
I’m learning new words
Such beautiful languages
All my friends have spoke
© Chagall 2015
She said flowers are for making
sweet nothing of the air, she’d wave
her bouquet in sweeping arcs,
to trace comets she saw there,
streaks of scent, slow color to fade
figments, flames in the dark dimmed
to a lilac’s breath, her intentions lingered
longer than she, still remain.
© Chagall 2015
A celestial ring to it,
turbines recede in the croon
of Doppler effect,
up above first clouds, a speck,
But you see it, don’t you?
Basso, pleasingly gargled vibrato,
slow trilled. Perfect blue cold day.
© Chagall 2015
My gaze is locked in numb appreciation
for the life that passes my window,
on occasion my eyes flit higher to peer
at the lone eagle or the spiraling dove,
everlasting images from a timeless place
framed beyond the glass, impressed
on the silver that backs the dome,
I feel myself small, a flower between pages
torn from the volume, untethered soft
silken threads to bind me no more,
I elevate up to find it’s not different
than falling down, I let myself go, ascend so
it’s me, I pass by windows, waving to the crowd below
© Chagall 2015
It’s the way Pop started to go, she said,
small things, inconsequential; so I fret
for things I did today: poured the whole well
of ground coffee beans directly into the pot,
rather than measure the right amount
into the brew receptor, and reached for gel
instead of saline, to lubricate my lenses.
© Chagall 2015
Alphabet City 