Relax deeply, secure in the updraft, ride the scree,
low in the pocket, let flexible tension arc about you,
buoyancy – wind rushing cilia,
spread under light and sky
in full spanned glory,
a journey upward
to thinner
rarefied
air.
© Chagall ∞
Each sense has a cache of
residual reality
– attention! –
not memory at-work at all,
just dimming glows, we filter
the actual,
we choreograph the quintet,
low-capacity volatility,
mosaic,
iconic,
saccadic.
© Chagall ∞
Today while reading Figure and Ground, I highlight
passages that I do not want to remember.
© Chagall 2017
It happened while looking out the window tonight,
the room light reflected on dark panes,
my nose to the glass to see outside, when I noticed
a blur of motion dancing behind me, so I pulled away,
turned and focused, no more than two or three heartbeats,
stared directly into her face, clear as the day she passed
she smiled, my reality popped, jolted by sound
like balloons exploding, and then she was gone again
© Chagall 2015
