My dad’s been dead
for many years
yet clearly
it’s his voice
coming out
therein
the static
from the speakers
© Chagall 2014
Tag Archive: Love
Precious the time was
and now it’s down to this
the final eve before leaving
Perhaps we should just embrace
from now till then, though there’s
a strong case never to separate
I will relish the feel of your cheek
against mine, soothes my mind, relaxes my temples
the mere brush of your lash
Your breathing, the way you draw life
is so close to me now in the surround
you make with a wave of your hand and hair
There is no reason to ever release this hold
no way to improve the way I feel right now
I would die and mummify, oh so happy
© Chagall 2014
I told her I’d drive her
absolutely no problem
in fact I would be honored
she said you’d have to then drive home alone
I replied that needn’t be true
I could simply stay on
forever
© Chagall 2014
She says goodbye to the face and dress
lets her hair down long catches air
in the wind she is and night is way past nigh
she’s again a little girl running singing
goodnight moon after all this very long while
in a step clutches beams in mid-air, nothing there but
graceful descent in a fall maybe to Avalon, she’s heard there’s a king there
© Chagall 2014
I ran to the border
and found no line
no visible boundary
between here and there
the others seemed
us
such an odd place
for division
like mimes we palmed
the imaginary wall
brick by brick
both we and they
occasionally brushing
fingers, such delightful
and forbidden tingle
he of the gray robe
I of the white
now
we both don blue
and stand guard
with pink erasers
© Chagall 2014
Today the world
has no front page
something marvelous, curious
occurred overnight
East awoke to loving West
and all cardinal points the same
for their neighbors
Everywhere there are puddles
of dissolved factions
and relinquished isms
People are sharing ethnic breads
and strong homemade brews
passed down over the generations
singing folk songs in the round
overlapping choruses in a variety
of tongues, accompanied by beautiful
percussion, reeds, and strings
dancing around fires, gifting homeland costumes
in a worldwide exchange of giving
The energy around the planet is palpable
one can ride it like an orbital ring
to transcend the here and now
seven billion tiny lights illuminate
as one
deep in the reaches of the multiverse
the Knower for a moment thinks Earth
has flickered
but soon loses interest
as there are much brighter beams
to tend to
© Chagall 2014
Her tears bead crystal
regrets bluer than that time
against black satin
Her sweet talc beguiles
such an exquisite long neck
a place of somber dimples
I shall bathe in the pool
at the nape of her life
an azure puddle of warm rain
Hear that?
That’s the sound I make
when thrashing and drowning’s
not merely a state of mind
Her strong hand
in the deepest end
continues to hold me under
© Chagall 2014
Elaborate schemes scrolled ornately
elegant passages etched
in a world at a time when no one wanted
more than any one
perhaps it’s vertigo
settled in
allow me my Hitchcock moment
God, I’m on the hour-hand
of the bell tower clock
again
and I promised myself
that this chance would not be
wasted
and so I jumped
with so much confetti about
I have no sense of falling
uniquely six-sided we are
crystalline in nature
curious to find
identical snowflakes
yet there you are
I’m
so
sorry
I
melted
© Chagall 2014
I find myself at the door again,
same as before,
as always
I
embark
hoping to find the turn
that short crooked bend
to lead me to nestle
beside you
cocooned in
the umbra
to the depth
of wellness
atop dry land
and close to
healing water
a spot marked
essentially X
© Chagall 2014
I can sense the shape of the wing
that my skeletal frame would require
to sustain flight
Like the memory of a limb after having been severed
I can still feel
I can still itch
I can still clench
I have flown
So many times that
my memory of each
runs together
such that I and I
are in echelon
From the tops of these trees
the city peers back with a lazy eye
and a sprawling lack of focus
A string of lights at the border
is sequenced in series to appear to cascade
first up then down, in so many colors
It is dark and I lose myself
in the surround of the night
Heavy birds weigh down branches, honed in on
the tip of balance just before snapping,
I sneeze and startle them all away
The moment you relax deeply and securely
into the updraft, you’ll begin to ride the scree
remember – hang low in the pocket
and let the flexible tension that is arced around you
the buoyancy that is, of wind rushing the fine cilia
about you, spread under light and sky in full spanned glory,
take you ever higher to loftier aerie
to thin and rarefied air
© Chagall 2014
Alphabet City 