Tag Archive: time


All, All The Time

I imagined once I would be here,
as surely as I remember that day 
now, there upon a time yet living

cc: Chagall 2021

Return to Sender

I retrace the lines of your handwritten letters
and imagine you once sitting there

I see what you saw as the ink flows cursively
from your heart, to your head, to your hand, to the paper,
now yellow and cracked where your fingers run the length
of the folded seams; it seems only yesterday or a lifetime ago

a small water stain outside the margin, 
perhaps a drip from a teacup that day
that missed your lips and fell, to be absorbed

or maybe a tear

I wish I'd saved the envelope
that held the missive close in hand,
the flap and stamp that touched your tongue,
a return address where no one lives today

at least no one I know

cc: Chagall 2021

Deflation

on the scale of it all
we are nearer the end
of the smallest of things

cc: Chagall 2021

Least of All, Time

Where do the young go,
do they frolic in a new field 
warmed by an old sun,
or in aged meadows lit by now?

Everything dies, sheds skins,
to give way to the moment

Once swayed by the song,
the length of the body in dance
presses on, listens for the rhythm,
hums along 

until the tempos change

And watch as if outside-in,
themselves a third party,
a single heart
here...

From the rise that emerges there in the lowlands,
amid the mist and the faces, an outstretched hand,
a single smile, a breath, a curl, a lash, a cool smooth cheek

The incredible sensation, the surround of loving arms,
the perfect nestle of neck in neck, a race to all that is good

was once good

I know now
that blue continues
long after the eyes are gone

cc: Chagall 2021




In A Yellow Mood

Better days will come, my friend,
at least that's what they say,
and we will rejoice at their dawn.

The lost along the way
are strewn along the petaled path we spy, 
spirals into the hidden curve behind us.

Before us the road well-hidden
still bends there in the undergrowth.

Moments turn to hours, goodnight turns to morrow...

And way has led to way as has been told, 
and years and years from now, we -

We will tell tales of a time 
when better days lay ahead.

cc: Chagall 2021

So Sorry, Seurat

as a pointillist I dabble in implication,
you infer sky and water from dots I render

the eyes' sweet surrender
to that which is not 

I touch the blue by the sky inside you,
provoke the memory of dappled green

whorls of afternoon sun diffract lazily 
off the pond reflecting nearby reindeer lichen

you the viewer 
are yourself 

once again
twice stippled

cc: Carlos 2021




…If I Want To

the balloon from your party
still holds its helium
long after
you're
gone

it bobs there yet
in the ceiling
corner

its long rainbow tassel
a curlicue of color

in time it will slide down the wall
without promise of rising 
anymore

all the best wishes of the day
flattened and peeling

inert

cc: Chagall 2021



In Echelon

Come with me!

I know a place where
there are updrafts still

You can catch your wings
and soar

Icy blue winds
near the edge of horizons

Very thin air
so easy to breathe

So little remaining

cc: Chagall 2021

The Last Aloft

there it is,
that distinct aroma

a wind of the past

a breeze 
of the gone 

a flash of laughter
once, now lost

somewhere in the deluge,
somewhere in the design

supine
on the detritus

a back-float
on time ethereal

buoyant, 
I fall from a rooftop

farewell,
receding sky

welcome home
whispers the blue 

cc: Chagall 2021


I am cold tall pine
Terns bank away in echelon
God braces mid-air

Chagall 2019

 

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