Tag Archive: Peace

Let There Be

The universe is staging
a trillion-photon march on creation
to show us how solidarity’s done

Anywhere that light is
that’s where you’ll find me

© Chagall 2016

Once Again, Battenkill

Morning atop a large rock, a stone lily pad
in the middle of the stream a team-span wide
while cold waters lap at the edges, one can ride dry
at the high round rump. I’m here in perfectly old,
tattered blue-wool pullover weighted right against the vigor
of this new day; how wonderful so much morning remains
to while away.

Dense clusters of small gnatty flyers dance in ancient patterns
in the rays of early sun, radiant light, pervasive heat
waves in mirage, they flutter there bursting from vernal pools.

Rainbows used to dance here, leave small wakes, glide on eddies,
do backstrokes, with no one watching; masterful puppeteer of lightweight test,
set dry flies still, perfectly still, with but the slightest tremor, concentric break of the surface, from the rainbow’s vantage, just enough to stir curiosity,
a sniff, a poke, enough to spring the snap.

Nothing sadder than a rainbow in mid-air, regretting prior impulse,
the change is sudden, inevitable, decisive.

Snow on Battenkill falls in crunches, bunches in feet to yards
high, the wisteria that bough low to the banks, shaggy warm under cold,
lilac tongues out panting, with winter body heat home to dead butterfly larvae;
dome holds the sound in, the sound out; you can walk anywhere,
the terrain is level, white and wet.

Though not witnessed by anyone or anything, I left footprints in November
in the carry along the north rise, that held their shape and depth,
through March.

I look forward to final frost, to clear and distinct birthing,
of all that is, there ever was; the future is merely supposition,
isn’t it? The ice, the same as the dew.

I would rather choke on the freezing waters filled with silt from the moving
running bottom, than trapped in the upper layers locked frozen in time.

Chagall 2016

Please see here for the original Battenkill

Not Just One

The world is soothed by soft refrains,
life’s lulling opioids amass to mask
all pain and sorrow

If you existed you’d know the same as I
in footsteps misted, feet of holy water
just barely enough to drown in

Chagall 2016

8 Billion Person March

To those who see
in infra-red
we are all
the same color

Chagall 2016

Carpe Noctem

From what,
for whom,
until when,
do all these
planets spin?

There below
on the dark side,
see them – aren’t those

We no longer
pay attention
nor pray
for those who
destroy the
blue pearl

Chagall 2016

I Think This Is Right, No?

Keep moving
we must follow
every drop of ray
must fall – alight
make truer yet
the glow of our skins

we are all
beautiful people
in sunset

wax deliciously
like sunrise – all new days

that’s what hope
looks like blind
faith keeps coming
long the day after

angle me so
I can watch
the last fade
of the light

Chagall 2016


If every planet teemed with life,
the multiverse one big beautiful bazaar,
billions of blue orbs everywhere,
star-travel commonplace, fast and cheap,
an interplanetary agora of sorts, would there still be war?

Chagall 2016


From My Grandmother’s Window

I fear we’re becoming
people who have no concern
for those who succeed us

Instead we live for the moment
without an obligating sense
to make Gaia inheritable

Similarly there are those
who have no reverence
for those who precede us

Family, tradition, culture and mores
reduce to biology resembling nothing
more than a gene pool

May they drown in the shallow end

Chagall 2016

Ever Expanding Universe

I remember now as a child
the sense of falling

Not down on my knees
but plummeting

Earth was falling, hurtling through space
and I was attached to the Earth

My Mother held me tight
while the wind tunneled about us
though stars receded, secure I grew
to ignore the fall

I remember now as a child
that sense of falling

Chagall 2016

Happy Knew Year!

I’d rather dance just with you
perhaps even drink alone now that there is
some moon this New Year’s Eve

Your name is Jessica Eve so that makes you
the night before Jessica
(I was once the elf
of Saturday Eve)

I consider us one since we will howl
together in the wetlands tonight

The stars shift subtly look different
with passing time though not quite aligned
to the stroke at midnight

My heart will cascade its tickertape
among the fleeting, their raised flutes intone
ripe crystals, honed glass holds the promise
of the toast to which we all spring

Love & Peace in 2016

Chagall 2015/2016

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