How subtle are these symbols, to clinch or to clench,
both embrace, one the certainty of winning, the other
holds tight to imminent loss, to quench, bring cooling
liquid, healing balm, through tight canals to affliction,
immersion in ice, or steam, infinite horizons of water,
too quiet, to hush someone lovingly with finger upon lips
shushing air.
© Chagall ∞
Can a couplet convey an altering jolt similar to an epic?
How many gods does it take to screw-in a tree?
© Chagall ∞
To the birds outside my window today
I am the object behind the screen
Chagall ∞
Moonlight holds
dark milligrams,
pentagrams of photons
dispossessed, lost;
I witness the diaspora
of light. Darkness veils
as deafness, no evil
nor good when there is no need,
when eyes become superfluous.
© Chagall ∞
Eternal bright light
Her soliloquy honey
Evergreen deep rain
© Chagall ∞
Same bug’s been on the screen for hours now
basking in sun luxuriant as I. I no longer
desire to swat You with my towel
for we are one.
© Chagall ∞
With only the ordinary
we shape new lie to the land,
extraordinary contour upon which
to dwell and to set our roots
at odd angles to the rise that marks
the divide no longer,
the apropos
no longer becoming rather been,
is seemingly all the rage these days
or are you missing the drift? The rift is
the riff, like the rose was once.
Look at me I’m streaming!
A
lilt,
a
lull-
a-
bye.
© Chagall ∞
In an instant the sound of the ocean ceased
and in that vacuum nothing remained
save the din of human voices.
© Chagall ∞
I will write free verse
of the universe, letters as galaxies,
implied points clear as constellations,
stars appear closer than they seem
when seen from light years away across
the paragraphs. I invert my event horizon
to search within and strew about the detritus
of my being, hence this ramble, these lines,
served up on the tines of synapse.
© Chagall ∞
What do you most need to hear right now,
and what do I ache to tell you?
Your very existence suffices, it’s all Is.
Our options: there is no God; there is no You;
You are God; there’s Nothing but God.
Choose one or the other,
all or not; it’s one in the end.
I yearn to
return to the Ordinary immersed in colors, deeply absorbed
in light extraordinaire, the water not the wave.
I shed the boundaries, address what is there beyond me –
the other – as You inclusive of me. I switch the wires,
so to speak. I co-opt all of existence, call it my own.
Creation is a figure cast like a rainbow upon my ground,
just a stone’s throw from joy.
© Chagall ∞
Alphabet City 