I am as young as this moment allows but no less.
Someday I’ll have been here again.
© Chagall ∞
Tag Archive: sentience
Each sense has a cache of
residual reality
– attention! –
not memory at-work at all,
just dimming glows, we filter
the actual,
we choreograph the quintet,
low-capacity volatility,
mosaic,
iconic,
saccadic.
© Chagall ∞
The light is soft here as if all the world is heather
askance, atilt and askew. I stare at a door ajar
that invites me to slip in now and then, and I do.
I float on a tone, bulbous sound beats against time
measured in gulps, a three-quarter waltz paced regularly
when I least expect it to. I wish you eternal lavender.
Life offers life on the gentlest of palms below the wrists’
hollows so slender and kissable. Cheeks intended for cupping
dimple and provoke the protrusion of lips for tugging, to daub,
pull and pout. The colors around me begin to lose their soft-edge,
sadly. I hear the click of the door lock, not certain which side I am on.
On the down beat I gracefully swoop with torque and suspension,
sinew and skin and blood, at work in miraculous union.
© Chagall 2017
At the core of my existence I am certain
that poets exist on beautiful celestial orbs
other than earth
© Chagall 2017
Through the south-facing window I see the eagle fly
till the edge of the pane, so I run to the east
to espy her in contiguous flight but she is nowhere to be seen.
I return to find that the window is gone as well.
© Chagall 2017
Stars burned bluer then
Breathless joyful morning songs
God today made man
© Chagall 2016
There are no words
to express
the world within
where no words exist
© Chagall 2016
My pen appears happier
today to trace old lines,
worn-out niceties seemingly
inspired, but merely sophomoric,
a glimpse of infinity proffered
to none but the many.
I yearn to be
amid the few.
© Chagall 2016
The curtain is parted as she’d left it,
worlds continue passing by.
© Chagall 2016
Sandwiched between her and the braver me,
I cautiously wander a bit farther away from the fray today
to a place where few boundaries abut.
© Chagall 2016
Alphabet City 