Lights along the coast
a promise of safe harbor
the hope of drowning
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Archive for September, 2013
Do I have to?
Carlos, go to bed now!
Okay, Mommy. Love you.
Love you too, mijo. Goodnight Carlito.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
They just keep pressing for info,
want to know the strange sort
of things.
I make real sure to conceal my tell,
divert my stress to the soles of my feet,
let the lies dissolve there
rather than on the lines
of my face.
And I know how to win
the game of the eyes,
when to show whites
when not to,
to refrain from shifty
random glance, the essence
of prevarication.
Lie detectors can’t grab me,
’cause I’m two, sometimes three
steps removed from the question they think
they ask; when I answer I’m always
dead on the truth, it always depends
on what I believe I’m saying.
I’m the master of double-talk,
the double negative,
and non-denial denial.
I am mostly
beside myself
taking my own name
in vain,
underwhelmed,
undernourished,
under-valued,
under a bad sign,
under the gun,
under their thumb,
under the boardwalk,
under the weather,
under estimated,
under the table,
under budget,
an underdog.
My single solace and joy
is to be atop you
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
I wrote it and you missed it,
how inopportune,
passed by like a symbol
on a ticker-tape,
a blip, a hiccup,
no less
and no more
as relevant
as when it was fresh
off the press,
a Beaujolais
to christen the new day,
young and tart,
so randy as you are
captured
just perfect
(I think)
in verse,
downed in big
gulps,
and in the end
a toast to satisfaction,
one grand
and audible
Ahhhhh
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Memo:
Carlos is careless,
Pete’s petite,
and Brenda – way too brawny.
I say let’s let
them run it.
The Boss
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Water washed away
penned in bubbles and soap scum
haiku in the bath
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Each time we would fall
on the way to gentle glen
detoured back to life
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Triad
and trinity
where once were two
turned three
the duo now
has reference
both selves
new self
consonance turns
dissonant
upper partials
color
I see me see
you see me
while shattered
stars fragment
I search
for the others
just enough
to conspire
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
There’s a song that she sang
when the world was down
I’m sure it went something like this . . .
There’s a song that she’d hum
when the world was right
no one ever heard the words.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Perfect blue
that day
the earth shook,
rumbled steady roll
a subway leaving Chambers
heading for the Center
sky turned night
came down
debris
soft quiet
snowfall deserted
ancient Manhattan
the southern tip
where east meets west
at a point
where neither
is what it was
along gaslight streets
immigrants stroll
sing silent carols
forbidden hymns
for fallen angels
echo against the piers
the piles
and the quiet lapping
of the river, missing
the towering shade
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Alphabet City 