I open the door
eddies of leaf tornadoes
dry swept streamers
pirouette
somewhere rain falls
warm
inside the chill
breathing
Chagall 2015
Tag Archive: nature
No wind
still arbors
living trees
in repose
Docile shaggy creatures
unwashed but scented
deeply of Mother
breathing
Absorb light
emit air
knee-deep
vernal pools
I am the sound
of the haze that’s risen
each morning heat cast
in winter chill
I am hope
pervasive
Chagall 2015
A bedroll at the timberline, thin air shallow breathing
feels like snow, I’m alight, the blue of the moon is brilliant
across the fields brocades of frozen mist
never-ending giving, a place to bury one’s head
when it storms, a shawl over the neck and shoulders
a biscuit dunked in strong hot sweet black tea
I cut so it appears as if nothing’s been removed
odd over time how it doesn’t diminish
though I repeatedly shave a sliver
more often than not, every now and then
sometimes late than sooner
a paring, a sharpener, tiny fanned whorl of paper-thin wood shave
beautifully splintered skirts of pastel colors, pointed graphite
Atop the mountain I thought I’d write more
instead I live more without any need to narrate
to capture – to curate – to memorialize
to relevate
I howl insane and loudly under my blanket
I kick off a muffled echo
I giggle to myself in the dark night
I conspire with no one but the others who disenchant
disassociate in that space we reserve like a headband
Chagall 2015
A small bird flying overhead
determinedly through the wind
high above is tossed she chirps
desperate to be somewhere
Chagall 2015
Elevate beyond the veil
overlook the valley
I’m not quite sure
if there will be dales
as well, just land
safely (I pray the pall
will lift) – remember
please kiss Earth
once alighted, give Mother
my regards.
Chagall 2015
Yeah, about as liberal as my butt.
She doesn’t even compost!
Chagall 2015
I’ve had it with fluorescent lights, filing cabinets,
Outlook, meetings, deadlines, deliverables, mindless drivel,
the drive for money money money.
I need open skies, fields of green, no pressure, nature,
my own hours, a way to get back to things that matter.
(sigh) Mexicans have all the best jobs.
Chagall 2015 – with love to all Latin people
Had my face into the berries
shaking the ripest free
minding my own business
when a bee took it upon himself
to sting me, obviously not aware
of the relationship I’d fostered
with the ecosystem around, a newbie
(if you will) who didn’t get the pecking order,
so I sat him down to say:
Hey listen, around here we live and let live,
species means quite little, your kind and I
are tight and while I don’t like to play the Queen card,
trust me – I will!
He buzzed understanding, landed on my nose,
looked me deep in the eye in the eye in the eye, to which I puffed
out my lower lip, blew my breath upward, sending him aloft
on his way.
Did I ever tell you about my electric-blue damselflies?
Chagall 2015
The songs are ancient
Sung by birds who’ll soon perish
Sunlit empty branch
© 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
Alphabet City 