Once the earth was young
We’ve dashed any hopes it had
To move up in class
© Chagall, 2013
Archive for September, 2013
In a brouhaha
no one really laughs
ha-ha
or experiences epiphany
aha!
no cheering crowds
hoorah
there might be an occasional
ooh-fah
or a humbuggy straightforward
bah
maybe a punch to the face, a sarcastic
ta-ta!
while laughing an evil
nyah-hah-hah!
but definitely no
tra or fa or ooh-la-la
certainly not
in a brouhaha
© Chagall, 2013
The gunman screamed
You’re going to die
Breathless, I said
I know
He whispered then
But not today
and left me there
downhearted
© Chagall, 2013
While he was shaving
my catch of the day
I asked politely
if he could make sure
to return the seat
back to down
as I’d almost
fallen in
To which he started a rant
about genders and their
mutual responsibility
to monitor the state
seat up
seat down
banging the porcelain rim
to the throne
for emphasis
and how my wet ass
wasn’t on him
figuratively or literally
That’s when I told him
get out, take your shit and leave
figuratively and literally
door opened
door shut
case closed
© Chagall, 2013
Catch a falling star
stow it in that special creel
the one you have to keep
your celestial things
careful now
they burn
utmost care
wouldn’t hurt
to preserve
the finer points
of fallen bodies
drops of water
from a magic wand
release holy
star-steam
the vapors soothe
deep breaths
bring the heavens inside
change you
cause you to rise
and swell
magnificent
so that those around
will make a wish on you
if you’re the first
they see tonight
Someday you’ll fall
burn the lights
descend in graceful arc
it’s the fate we suffer
us celestial things
© Chagall, 2013
I can tell how well I’m doing
by the fervor in my prayer
desperate, calm
succinct or droning
drowning or afloat
to plead for joy
or wealth
maybe a stretch
to try for both
together
in a single sitting
depends on
who would listen
to gain
or to keep
to hold on to
fearful
to lose it all
so you go click
your heels
three times
I will stick
with the old school
trinity
divinity
infinity
eeny meeny miny
© Chagall, 2013
He asked the poet
What’s really going on here?
To which she replied
You’ve got it all backwards dear
it’s about what’s about
to come off
© Chagall, 2013
Remember today
life’s stark cold fields feel so hard
mind you now don’t fall
© Chagall, 2013
I’m addicted
to office supplies
paper
clean surface
the promise
of untapped prose
lines unwritten
in time
preferably
unlined
folders
crisp and empty
delicious slots
for array
clips
every shape and size
to bind and hold fast
the things that we love
number 9
mechanical pencils
bulbous tubular lead
to impart to the world
all that goes on
in the mind
© Chagall, 2013
I know that I’m someone
I’d like to know
I’m sure we’d get along
after all we’ve
much in common
loll about calm
commiserate
offer a shoulder
to cry on
cautious about
cricks in the neck.
together we toast
one glass raised
forgo fine rings
of crystal on crystal.
Angry
beside ourselves
twice removed
giving each other
the once over
partners together
a dollar parlay
on the Daily Double
end up winners
celebrate two to a bed
on a one night stand
with uni-dimensional two timers
who have a special tonight
one in the hand
and two in the bush
once upon a time
two princes were born
raised by twin mothers
each with a one-track mind
I would hug me hard
if we were friends
I would never
let me go
© Chagall, 2013
Alphabet City 