Perhaps I come here once too often
I’m sorry if I exceed my welcome
it’s just so wonderful here –
I never cease to be charmed,
woven by the spell, mystique
ceases to be such if everyday . . .
but it is such! I could spend eternity here
and every moment would forever be more lovely.
Chagall 2015
She said it’s just a snowdrop anemone
a phantasm that I use to transform
materialize in a split-second wink of an eye
I steal kisses, beware!
I am peppermint patty in a fun-house light
pernicious and witty and bright and I pity
any lassie who isn’t me tonight
I am ten years old
again in a tent that I pitched at my uncle’s
one summer night incredibly long ago
ice and flame, the stars
beckoned throughout the night
I needed to see the stars all night
so I left the mesh-flap open
to let in light from so far long away ago
on warm local winds that carried the voice of cicadas
I haven’t slept since in awe of the world
once I’d slept on the ground in the beautiful light of stars
I now allow myself to float airily up
without inhibition nor gravity
intercedes
hoping
our
fall
is
a
small
one
Chagall 2015
The light is perfect here
color soaks the moment
I see small dots of life
everywhere there is lavender
the brush is more patient than I
to render its impression
of God and time
I am immersed in Peace
despite profound disturbance
in the pointillism
the fabric must be mended
that bears the barbarism –
humanity and sane gentle minds
must once again conceive the canvas
we must wake up and smell the carbon
inhale the stars as one people we exhale
a single cry that is our lot
vis-à-vis the vast endless other
rather one another
warm, musky Friday nights
amour all around as it should be amour
lights, everywhere lights
gypsy jazz and a pack of Gitanes
i am jean Paul belmondo I scream from the water
startled bouquinistes and Dominique
et tout le monde est triste et ils me manquent
but my english is pretty good, just like your french, she said
I love you all – I once rode a carousel, the town square of Dijon
while an elderly couple sipped frothed coffee from lacquered cups
I watched the world gallop from atop an ancient horse
smelling the wind of the region in the cold turns
cakes and perfume, a calliope piping an old folk tune
Paris is a city of long horizons architected essentially such
I pray for peace, love, longevity, once again eternal lights
romance beneath an arch, a kiss along the Seine
an end to sorrow and hate –
yes the light is perfect here, I will paint so that nothing mars the light
the light is all that is essential, somehow I must grab the light and apply it
to the canvas, it comes in dots small points of hundreds of millions of color beads
that combine to give us all meaning all life it’s just color we’re all in the end
light
Chagall 2015
She’d never known a tear
to defy gravity
They simply lift
invert then fall
little time
left now for wonder
Chagall 2015
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
If I had to choose
between you and ice cream
I’m pretty sure I would choose you.
Chagall 2015
To indulge the juvenile delinquent
in us, divulge if you would delight
in making out for a moment?
Nothing real crazy
just a peck or too
or three will do.
Nose-to-nose who knows
how far we goes, head to toes
maybe.
We
shirk
all
pressure.
Who knew so little soap
could emit so much lavender.
Chagall 2015
At work I’ve insisted
that my team be staffed
with nothing but ladies
of beautiful color
Our primary mission:
To rock any world
we encounter
Chagall 2015
I continue to search for soft wind
to blow the gentler spirals that were once
aloft above metropolis, pinwheels of fallen dreams
so many ticks on the tape ago, confetti
don’t rain on her parade though it pours on mine
and she and I have no umbrella, just tiny Chinese
parasols we grip between our teeth
to shelter our hearts from the storms approaching,
eddies, torrents, and twisters, so difficult
near impossible, to steal a kiss this way.
Chagall 2015
From here on in
the lesson gets harder,
loss more bittersweet
than gain less fulfilling
but still high stakes
and so worth playing
I’m living, I’m doubling
down from here on in.
Chagall 2015
Alphabet City 