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Alternative Ending

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If I’d known the pages were there
I’d have read them, odd how my story
worked better not knowing.

© Chagall 2015

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Hey you chasing wisps tonight, so lucky the clouds hang low
in bitterwarm air so easy to fly when it’s like this.

You see me there, hover just over
the rooftop, below you I wave in wan moonlight.

I was once on a sea that was lit like this,
so many moons and just enough time to crest every one.

I love you, you know.

© Chagall 2015

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The doctor says she sees Q-Waves
there on my EKG, usually a sign
something bad has happened
to one’s heart. I tell her that
they’re probably there to say hello
to that day you went away. Now may I
put my blouse on?

© Chagall 2015

Afloat

Chagall:

Happy Friday All. —Chagall

Originally posted on Alphabet City:

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She wears different faces for me, primal postures on black surround
a fan-dancer, angles arms and legs, in time she forms tomorrows
less certain than days gone by that certainly seemed more certain

As a human I pray but I’m open
if you think there’s a better way

She’s human too – I’m reminded, her heart beats to break, pink stars in brisk gravity
she’s crushed given time and grace, to love her is so precisely weightlessness

so we hold onto updrafts and breathe, waft about and soar in deep essing swoops
bank steep, Godspeed to the outskirts

cold air, lavender tinder, where the softest touch is all it takes
to let go

© Chagall 2013

View original

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Pretty pictures inside my head
stop me from seeing the beauty without,
there where the actual lies, beyond the real
where I’ve occasion to wander rarely,
but now it’s a different story.

© Chagall 2015

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A kiss is a probe, isn’t it? Tell me . . .
Wait! First, meet me in the shallows
where the echoes go, or atop the tree
where we’ll find our self
in selfish longing,
won’t you?

© Chagall 2015

The Beacon

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She said she’d return as a small light,
one I would see should sadness surround me.

No need to search, just open your heart
I’ll guide you out of the dark

© Chagall 2015

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Here at the ceiling, before flying away,
I think that I’ll bob just a bit

© Chagall 2015

Twice

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This then is essentially done,
I just need now to go and do it.

© Chagall 2015

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The songs are ancient
Sung by birds who’ll soon perish
Sunlit empty branch

© Chagall 2015

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