They repeated
No, no thought
Contented, I’d given up
trying to tell them
All things at once
is the same thing
Chagall 2015
Tag Archive: reality
The mirror clearly said msispilos
so I took it and smashed it repeatedly,
vehemently before shocked onlookers
until all I had left was a single splinter
of the handle in my hand.
And that – as they say – is that.
Chagall 2015
Threadbare themes are all I’ve left
discarded, dressed in symbol
so far removed from the pang in my gut,
the swift uptake of breath, the gasp
that attests to beauty, the prolonged
search for words to convey the fleeting
moment, one step behind disappears
a paintbrush stroke of water,
a wet hieroglyphic that mists in the hot sun
and is gone.
© Chagall
Winding down, springs relax long
given room to breathe,
not taut as before, just now
assembled here together with me, outstanding
but a step apart, a whisper in the ear, an aside,
a glimpse nonetheless intimates air upon a wave
upon a cheek a kiss fell once upon a time
while winding down we tucked each other in
to the chin in deep warm down, and down I go
in a spin – black magic I’ve heard, dance with me
under devil moons – but those are just clouds
I’d say. And grace rises up from the ground, a pond
upon which we walk, the softest step,
we surf smoothly, skimming on the soles of our feet
moving as we do in our dreams, but now awake and able to fly
here just like there, hovering high and low on a whim,
as we desire. Take your time. Decide. Where shall we go?
© Chagall 2015
We only had words, no meaning,
long liturgical drones,
endless hours, sonorous
dirge-like ponders, attempts
to reveal the roiling core
of our humanity, of love as ground
for creation, essentially to invert,
to feel likewise on the inside,
overlooking already being
once removed from having once felt,
a mist on the face of the water.
© Chagall 2015
Pretty pictures inside my head
stop me from seeing the beauty without,
there where the actual lies, beyond the real
where I’ve occasion to wander rarely,
but now it’s a different story.
© Chagall 2015
Assorted somnambulists are dropping by
to wish me pleasant dreams.
© Chagall 2015
My gaze is locked in numb appreciation
for the life that passes my window,
on occasion my eyes flit higher to peer
at the lone eagle or the spiraling dove,
everlasting images from a timeless place
framed beyond the glass, impressed
on the silver that backs the dome,
I feel myself small, a flower between pages
torn from the volume, untethered soft
silken threads to bind me no more,
I elevate up to find it’s not different
than falling down, I let myself go, ascend so
it’s me, I pass by windows, waving to the crowd below
© Chagall 2015
From tiny clinging tendrils of truth
we are leafs like nodes of illusion.
I feel the veining that buoys me,
a sail in the wind that I keep
on course to a true line.
© Chagall 2014
I’ve a desire to walk aslant
gyro nimbly into new realm
suck in my breath till I am half-an-inch deep
so I can squeeze through the hairline
black seam of the door that’s cracked, leads
to behind what we believe is visible
now you see me, now you don’t, now you see me
now you might: inter-dimensional jitterbug
© Chagall 2013
Alphabet City 