Tag Archive: timeless


2 to 1 to 0 to 1 to 2

I search for the source, a vantage point
over which I hover to resonate, in order
to speak with alacrity, honored to be
the medium, the clarion voice,
le trompettiste; I flow and so
I’m a flower, a steady stream
of warm words awash in your ear,
the storm before the quell,
not merely a silent hour,
an end to separation,
a prelude to the loss
of the throb.

© Chagall ∞

Illumina

Let there be light:
plea or command?

© Chagall ∞

Sara is Her Summer Love

I utter the unspeakable in order
to definitively convey that aspect of it
yet I do not suffer consequences. We are
bewildered – what to do, where to go from here.

I am nothing but eyes amid the sensation of a swing aloft
in a ceaselessly sunny sky, my shoelaces are green
but I am otherwise awash in primary color, yellow
and red are my glow amid her cooler blue.

Sky as thick or thin as I like it, in doughy gulps
or wispy cold streams.  She could float upon oceans for hours
never to sink through salt water.

She’d swim away out beyond
where I’d imagined
the breakers would be.

© Chagall ∞

Sandy Stars

The crisp scent of the mint keeps the pinks at bay
For want of a softer light I pray for rain
In vain since time in memorial less a mountain
Than a collage of sleepily filtered photos
The sand polishes both our bodies I have
Never felt more alive than now
Tickled in ocean spray
Under this moonlight
A splice in the dark
Your breathing takes me
Vague sculpted feet
In the wet beach
Silken sexy surf
Rolls on silica
Diamonds on black
As stars go so suns
Whether night or day
To where you are
Light years so far
Yet so finely lit constellate away
Bodies alive of so many colors
The delicious warmth of white foamy water washes over my feet
In the pitch darkness your breath cooler on my neck
Suddenly reminds my that sky is boundless
Much bluer by day hotter in need of rain
Pepper or spearmint oil
To keep the pinks at bay

© Chagall ∞

Bigger than Bubbles

I was confused by her leaving, thought it instead
the roar of the ocean or the fall of the sky

She made the waves rise for she is the water
upon You I played splashingly wonderful, once when young

Earth ends, sky reigns, there on the thin line
where I’ve tiptoed appearing nimbly soon after sunset

She in my arms, her hair a cascade over low-flying clouds
some nimbus of sorts bringing aqua-aqua to the world

In calm repose we align constellate, symbolic of who we are
on the grander scale, she so poised to take a single step

Into deeper heavens I gaze awaiting the faintest sound of a thunderous clap
signifying everything coincident with her return, aromatic escorts

With her gone comes impenetrable ground where once she was figure,
her form as empty in its definition as once it was a blossom

I bounce, a balloon on a ceiling in celestial updraft, peering,
waiting, bobbing

© Chagall ∞

A Wry Rise

Light will guide me back
To ascension, a view from above,
Lofty gray weightlessness,
Ethereal suspension among birds
Of distinction, marked no longer
By petty ways, now only grand schemes
To return one again to a state of grace,
To engulf my self, to imbibe as well
The liquid of life, thus to hang in the balance,
Neither here nor there as it should be, to be
Either actually is a penchant unchained still linked
To time, once blinded I sensed the fence surrounding
Me so I blinked and clicked my heels, an attempt to awaken,
To rise, to ascend, score a view from above in the lofty gray.

Weightless.

© Chagall ∞

Sidekick

I’ve nowhere to turn except
to the expression of the timeless.
Though I am tired I forge ahead
convinced that the road leads direct
to the fount of some wisdom yet
undiscovered. Sadly, I am mistaken.

© Chagall ∞

An Image Through the Jade

She asked if I would please come down from the parade,
home from the water where hope flows slower than time,
back to where it all began to all begin, to be all in
one final moment momentarily lapsed. And each passing
day is a cedilla underscoring existence like LaFaro’s
thick bass one summer under Evans at the Vanguard.
Apart from all living things, everyone is fine,
at least that’s what they tell me. I get lost in my
search and then look for a way to return to the search
above me; sky is potentially below so to fall is to fly.

© Chagall ∞

You Would Have

To fulfill the destiny of the other
without consideration for ever having to fulfill one’s own
made for a far more spectacular life and so we chose it
without any regrets left unconsumed by actuality.

Sometimes it rained darkly in the seams of horizons stretched
like tired eyes across cityscapes, she blinks away drops.
A puddle is a place to dance – we pas de deux, slosh …
slow feet drag through heavy water.

Might I kiss you here? This place on this spot. See how words
convey no meaning at all! Lips, before the fountain, respectively.
Years from now the others will correctly say it’s Dijon
for look closely – see it, do you – the carousel?

© Chagall 2017

A Happy Ending

how often I found her
tucked up in hollows
nestled in whorls
amid swirls
she spun

a pinwheel crazed
in gale wind
alighting where she pleased

now she is upright
safe in fluted forms
amid her friends
secure and alee

Chagall 2016

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