I only have a moment to tell you that
today the air was more electric than before and
the beauty of existence at large is so overwhelming that
I feel alive from my belly up into my neck then
something odd happens in my face and mind
I want desperately to cry, to weep at the wonderful
creatures that are all about, these colors of all senses
How do I tell you all of that in
this our only moment?
Chagall 2016
short
star gazers
long
a
lot
like
the
tall
ones
or are they just farther away?
Chagall 2016
I have memories
of being in echelon
which means that at one time
I must have flown
I can feel
where wings connected
between biceps and pectorals
the backward sweep of deltoids
to where flight would have taken hold
like a clamp
we hang low in the pocket in the rush of fresh air
hundreds of feet high in a V across calibrated
stagger as if random we bank in a frolic
as one gaining air on the others steep turns
tightly so much torque but our bodies are made
for bending flexing near breaking
Our hearts are different
not so resilient, they snap
because they’re unforgiving
Chagall 2016
Too much optimism is cloying
while actuality is not quite as stark
as the realists might think
There is truth in the ground
but one needs to make figure
go away to see dark matter
The two profiles are the urn
a kiss creates then spills an ewer of honey
making for sticky back and fore grounds
Your aroma is metal, flinty
yet underneath sweet like talc
provoked aflame you are caramel
Stretched, kept in contact too long we fuse
the undersides along the length of our arms
our bellies plus our thighs adhere
Erasing the lines that define us
we become amorphous form with shading
Chagall 2016
Before time there wasn’t only
incessant heartbeat
Humans though water are merely steam
no less of all things
The moment before you knocked
the door swings open wide: you arrive
The ones already in search continue
long before you’re here
And wordless reads best
though you can’t remember
I relish the sizzle
when we meet ice
How we burn
underneath the numb
Chagall 2016
There is no day
for this is timeless
light at an angle
setting the stage
for me and you
The sun just beyond
the outskirts of the dome
casts a gold peach shine
that bakes us warm
I stand observed and seen
apart from any movement
of moments, even they
freeze
So still
one can hear
oneself breathe
one’s own breath
in the space of intervals
there’s lifetime
Let’s wait a beat
let’s bounce about
so ably we abound
round bottomed and bare
Chagall 2015
Sunday early eve
eastern standard
time
Her parents are old
but still alive
and mine are still
quite dead
We both hang on
we four
Plus others within
our gravity
We call
family
Our love traces
many roots
to get here
We are leaves, we are buds
on a tree growing
Sunday early eve
eastern standard
time
Chagall 2015
I thought I’d express it all in one breath
simply stream out all thoughts sans stops
But I faltered and fell on my face again
seems the usual fare these days
Spare a trifle my friend for a stanza or two
there I go again – nursery rhymes
Half the time I search for
the next time; absent yet deeply
not there
God, there’s ice chips everywhere!
Chagall 2015
I love Friday nights
I think they deserve
more than their 14%
weekly allotment
Chagall 2015
I open the door
eddies of leaf tornadoes
dry swept streamers
pirouette
somewhere rain falls
warm
inside the chill
breathing
Chagall 2015
Alphabet City 