To hold
more than
have to hold.
© Chagall 2016
Tag Archive: Love
To hold
more than
have to hold.
© Chagall 2016
… we shall never know
the taste of fruit we nourished,
laid out to field beneath sun
amid nature on true course,
these tomes are more than mere words,
they are …
© Chagall 2016
The night is crisp, autumnal.
Bourbon sweeter.
My son and his petite amie
at a friend’s cabin while they’re away.
With them, a bag of sweet potatoes
I grew and cured, for roasting
over the wood fire they’ll make.
Life is good.
Peepers sing earlier
than usual tonight. Harmonics from breezes
to trees to shape the glass arc of our ears
to blow gently in them.
I am yellow aged orange inflamed
dared to go red before withering.
I pray to the last gold ray of sun
there in the tall eastern trees
that refuses to say die to another day.
© Chagall 2016
There at the end of
the garden are all of
the seasons’ lessons
to be learned
So let’s Us harvest
– for unless we harvest …
© Chagall 2016
Like air
it’s everywhere
you breathe
Morning is life
as much as light
polishes
Now seems
to work best
at times
But i don’t know what
i don’t know – is it only
martini? (i could – as you suggest –
rhyme that with blini)
A kiss for any monday
appears on your lips
till our lips meet yet again tomorrow
How pregnant
the pause and i am
postpartum
Now indeed seems
to work best
all the time
© Chagall, 2016
Sweet potato by Melissa drying
together in one heap.
I make a one-cup dough everyday,
roll it or fill it.
We’ve seawater still on our fingertips,
a crust of hot crystal salt.
I’m different – you said,
through the open window – I’m the one looking up.
You were late. I watched you gather lilac and lace
by the unlatched gate.
Your breathing stills matter about the fire,
all being is cured aromatic.
And so able to last
forever.
© Chagall 2016
Maybe just nature
More than anything demands
Love, respect, our fear
© Chagall 2016
Conflicted today about what to write:
a new star born in the stingray nebula or
my father and I in a photo younger
than my children are today.
Astronomers say the star expanded due to a helium flash,
“…back to giant dimensions: the born again scenario.”
Through the Hubble telescope I can see my dad
swim upon ripples of time, breathe between strokes,
expertly gulping air.
Suns by day are stars by night depending where you are.
© Chagall 2016
see
ghosts flee
these fields
lavender
notwithstanding
hear the elders
spoke
words melt
ignorant wisps
away
I am yet
not fulfilled
here this place
unknown
© Chagall 2016
The sounds of night
linger and stray
into morning
This is not
real light
I’m aware
Too faded
perhaps
too bright
Too soon
the day
breaks
The day
brakes
Time slows
I enumerate
each passing
thing
One by
one
I am lost
in implicate order
Purely
of my own design
© Chagall 2016
Alphabet City 