Tag Archive: love lost then lost again


In A Word

There's nowhere to run but forward
when your very own buttocks
are chasing after you

I look up; the view of my forehead escapes me,
I have trouble tasting my own tongue

I have gazed into eyes,
though I've never heard a word 
from the ear 

despite listening intently
(somewhere once  I heard that 
gerunds are bad)

maybe all words 
are bad

the imperfection of the green bottle
is more precise than the words that attempt 
to describe it

the contents of the bottle shake,
underground tremors

but not enough to make waves,
albeit how tiny

I can throw thoughts like darts,
from my bullseye out to any
errant arc

aren't we the pair?

I stroke the umbilical cord,
coaxing it gently to relax,
to collapse into a coil,
to reel you in

to feel you
in total darkness
attempting
to discern shapes
any form
will do
to exit the nil
nipping at wet organisms
that threaten - nay promise - 
to engulf

we ride the tide home
in free-fall akimbo

asleep back-to-back,
we have nowhere to go
but forward

cc: Chagall 2021





Caroline, was that the bell?
Time to unfold it all away.

I’ll grab your bag, just give
me a moment, light is coming
into the window now like then
and again.

A room full of petals to welcome
the morning wind, shutters wide open
to ocean air.

I waltz with myself in a salty room
broom-swept but no worse for wear,
still smelling of summer, now I samba
on sand from beaches I conquered
barefoot, on bleached plank floors
carefully o’er and around broken glass

Caroline, you’ll call when you land?

After you’ve had the time to
grab your bag from
the carousel
before red-green
lights whisk by
and carry you away

I mist the room of petals
to keep them opened wide
alert to the sound of dark oceans
dancing waves, froth sexy
whitecaps warm in bare moonlight
rush about our ankles

I am breathless
running full-speed
maniacally at the threshold
of something about to burst

Caroline says she’s coming again
to pay a visit, without any bag this time

sans parcel, save a pair of dancing beach sandals
and a bucket of merely shells.

dark rum, slow rumba, undulating sand,
I wear clothes to capture the breeze

she shines light
luminescent – she is cyan in color
a cyanodite
she reflects moonlight

Caroline says I should
talk a lot
less

© Chagall ∞

Doormat

I’m not coming out, but I will invite you in;
today we’re serving sliced-twice fried rainbow.

© Chagall ∞

Prayer and Pledge: From an Aerie

Candles oblige me, light me back
to the sea, for at night I lose my way
if not for the sound of surf, the salt-spray,
I’d be lost, tossed about as innocence in the squall,
fragile bones amid limber wind, snapped barely alive
except for the thought of you buried deep,
the last seed of hope that I know I’ll sow someday.

© Chagall 2016

The Go-Between

I told her
as you had asked
that she knew nothing of moons

that it was waxing and gibbous

and she replied to tell you that
you are an idiot as anyone can see
that it’s nothing of the sort

but indeed instead waning crescent

She added
it comes with old age

then she gave me this kiss and this locket
she said that you’d know

Chagall 2016

Flat Out

My heart, adept at somersaults,
sticks the perfect landing.

The pain in my knees though tells me that
it’s not that long till fall.

So tape me up
to brace me tight
in time for another go.

Madly to the springboard
without stopping to plant
I soar of my own desire.

I emulate feathers floating
till ground.

To lie there
spying clouds move
up and down as well as left and right.

In motion emotionally always
forever truly yours.

Chagall 2016

Respectfully, Dearest

More than whispers, a whistle, in pert moonlight vespers
prayers through branches that sweep by my face, at this clip
too fast pace, I can easily traipse across lines lost except
for a glimpse of life pulses every now and then.

Curtsy, we bow throughout time, an elegant wakeful rest
is just all I can take at this moment, forgive me – how sad that we falter
I fall, every now and then.

Chagall 2015

Life, No Time

I’m finding more
guitar picks
laying lying around
these days

I’m feeling
more nimble
then and than
stars

We, I believe
are our own
answers

Swear
on a pinky
ring

More in
a haze
these days

Amazing these
swifty
autumn ways

Chagall 2015

Two For The Drive-In

chagall backdrop

She overcame inertia by bearing down hard
catching grip on shift-gear and leather,
deeply like cement – she became fixture,

a ground to figure
aloof, always the bold one off-axle spanned across
imperfect timing, but not to be lost on a roll –

tipped her shoulder, head-down ditched and tumbling
to topple her way to the billboard below,

fifteen famulous minutes though nary five feet high,
smaller than popcorn and concession soda,
but horribly beset by bugs in the diffraction of projector light.

© Chagall 2014

Love’s A Sweep Of The Plane

chagall backdrop

I’m yawed just a tilt from norm, thus this vantage
The sun fans beams in broad sweeps so far as breezes will bear

I thought that rather we’d touch down in dazzling canopy
To have trusted the odd turn along the shoreline
Where would we be then, I wonder but haven’t a clue

We are blessed to have known each other since morning though
Now shadows draw long across the royal emerald of gated lawns
Beyond the open pastures where we’d come to know the keepers

The planet’s star poking through bashful branches in winter
A fire where we wept for reason rather than comfort

How elusive the eye drawn to windswept curtains in afterglow
Slid palms over smoothed skin caught muscle deep in nurtured rub
Released in lips onto lips, blow to blow, then to now till then again

In lovely refrain of approaching night, a lullaby sung in oval tones
Windows open, no one awake, clearly still light though waning
People scurry home to savor the last day

I will die in your presence if my life is to spiral
And live in your absence despite lying here broken on hard crag
Rag doll from above, crippled hieroglyphic on splintered rock

Arms and legs
akimbo

© Chagall 2014

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