At the stop sign
in the tinted glass
of the hatchback
before me, reflections
of eagles flying
until the small blue
import in front proceeds,
leaving me next, alone
at the corner. I crane
to gaze out my sunroof,
a final glimpse of echelon.
© Chagall 2015
The scent outside’s all mine
cold, wet, nighttime pine
I pour two-fingers
shoot it and howl
Into the wetlands I go
hi ho!
© Chagall 2014
Birds chirp, agree
the day is safe
for short reconnaissance flights
Keep the starlings close at wing,
just how early is
too early?
Worms sleep in
below the ground
languid in compost heaps
© Chagall 2014
Alphabet City 