The nougat,
the payload,
essence, Persistor,
sturdy like a solder weld,
planting me,
center of all things.

The outskirts of heaven
halo my awareness
arc the balloon-tie top
of my dome,
a distance I traverse,
easily, boldly,
with a sure,
strident gait,
leaving stars in my wake,
like glitter falling
from my sequined socks,
sparkle and glow.

Archetypal patterns
establish themselves
according to plan,
protons and photons,
“Oh My!.”

That gel,
placenta inside,
me, traces,
the shape,
nebula, I carve,
hover, envelop,
I give to,
draw from.

Soul-mate wanted:
Sanskrit,
chitlins,
Wiccan Chicana,
looking for
Banzai barrio warrior.

Who knows that she would

like to swing on a star,
carry moonbeams home in a jar.

Sitting at a small table,
eating sweet cereal,
watching early morning
cartoons, the man
in the moon,
big smiley face,
above the horizon,

compressed, telephoto,

pre-school

memory.

Th-th-th-th-th-th-that’s all folks!

© Carlos Chagall, 2013