I love the way
sound sounds
in slow crunchy snowfall
there’s no doubt
that we’re inside
the dome
Chagall 2015
Tag Archive: time
Quickly before the fire dies
leaving us in darkness
I need to see your face
the round of your cheek
soft lash holding
a bead of tear
Chagall 2015
Your majesty, let this be writ today
Cineri gloria sera est
Glory paid to ashes comes too late
In waltz
cotton parasols like white petals
pirouette on open bud
spun this swaying lady
In tango curvy, nay brilliant
bryllyg and slythy
a perfect silhouette
A fantail shuffle
a slide-step past the moonlight
your finest top-shelf anything really
may your night be forever early
Chagall 2015
In this more recent age
of high-tech thievery and thuggery
I find myself more and more
missing my grandma, simpler days.
Chagall 2015
She fell from the branch
immediately shaping a figure S
then soared on a wing full of air
while I remain here unamused
lacking desire to fly
Chagall 2015
I guess we’re somewhere in the smear of things
right between the eyes and ears and legs of things
upside down screaming on the edge of wings
so neatly clipped
in narrow fissure chasms squeeze us tight
but we emerge in full span soaring high
too soon too fast, my love, too late too sad, my heart
breaks that this is less than fleeting love
gliders – everywhere clouds and biplanes
they hang there right above our heads
and do you know, the wild blue balloons do too?
Chagall 2015
Perhaps I come here once too often
I’m sorry if I exceed my welcome
it’s just so wonderful here –
I never cease to be charmed,
woven by the spell, mystique
ceases to be such if everyday . . .
but it is such! I could spend eternity here
and every moment would forever be more lovely.
Chagall 2015
She said it’s just a snowdrop anemone
a phantasm that I use to transform
materialize in a split-second wink of an eye
I steal kisses, beware!
I am peppermint patty in a fun-house light
pernicious and witty and bright and I pity
any lassie who isn’t me tonight
I am ten years old
again in a tent that I pitched at my uncle’s
one summer night incredibly long ago
ice and flame, the stars
beckoned throughout the night
I needed to see the stars all night
so I left the mesh-flap open
to let in light from so far long away ago
on warm local winds that carried the voice of cicadas
I haven’t slept since in awe of the world
once I’d slept on the ground in the beautiful light of stars
I now allow myself to float airily up
without inhibition nor gravity
intercedes
hoping
our
fall
is
a
small
one
Chagall 2015
I’ve been wanting to tell you of the light
how I can’t quite describe that feeling
of being heather-flat in color where rain is
I am slowly heartbeat again, no matter how you feel it
flow with no meaning and that’s a good thing
this window’s our square to the outside
autumn’s trees on furry gray skies, bluer edges
I freeze under constellations, I burn ice cold in black night
like star factories, a sudden and unplanned eclipse
my ears, both cheeks grow numb, the radiator pops
but then they are warmed by the light
southerly facing photons here in Arles only now
not many years later as before that shouldn’t happen
but light has a way of bending back
You are lovely as the Sun
and so I paint you wonderfully golden, alive and ablaze
Chagall 2015
Late autumn hot
unique humid
sea breezes in-land
colors still ablaze
I a burnt copper
in setting gold sun
reflections, perfect blues.
Chagall 2015
Alphabet City 