There's nowhere to run but forward when your very own buttocks are chasing after you I look up; the view of my forehead escapes me, I have trouble tasting my own tongue I have gazed into eyes, though I've never heard a word from the ear despite listening intently (somewhere once I heard that gerunds are bad) maybe all words are bad the imperfection of the green bottle is more precise than the words that attempt to describe it the contents of the bottle shake, underground tremors but not enough to make waves, albeit how tiny I can throw thoughts like darts, from my bullseye out to any errant arc aren't we the pair? I stroke the umbilical cord, coaxing it gently to relax, to collapse into a coil, to reel you in to feel you in total darkness attempting to discern shapes any form will do to exit the nil nipping at wet organisms that threaten - nay promise - to engulf we ride the tide home in free-fall akimbo asleep back-to-back, we have nowhere to go but forward cc: Chagall 2021
Tag Archive: self-referencing
Be on with it. Nothing to see here. Move along.
© Chagall 2016
One day long
ago I lived
with a senorita
who scored
clave-shaker
duets for money
From the window
I shouted
It appears as if
snow is starting
to fall!
She whispered dryly
Then let’s let it
Chagall 2016
Have you considered recently
refurbishing your haberdashery
or buying a brand-new commode, maybe armoire?
Some words must be paired
as fine wines vis-à-vis
fish or chicken.
Grassy, picked too young –
this one’s a hint of chocolate.
Barring any unforeseen outcomes
I’ll bet the barista falls madly in love
long before we reach five stanzas.
Chagall 2016
An old man struggling
with a large heavy mirror
obviously dear
Preserves all of the light
the reflected scape
that’s passing there before him
To the observer the world
advances as the world
advances towards
the advancing world
The careful eye
caught in the seam
between real and glass
and polished silver
Notes that the man
does not reflect
himself
© Chagall 2014
I have worked hard to eliminate
that part of my personality
which causes me to see
any aspect of the world
through rose-colored glasses
I think life will be
phenomenal from hereon
© Chagall 2014
My toothbrush has
tons of crud in its cracks
need something bristly
to get up in there . . .
© Chagall 2014