Poetry aspires
and says that
Not unlike
humans
Theme’s
intent
One’s
we
© Chagall 2013
Archive for December, 2013
I don’t think she would be insulted at all
if you likened her to a bowl of hot chowder –
just don’t say she went down like one
or something stupid like that,
instead focus on the nourishment
and the satiety.
© Chagall 2013
My mouth probes yours
soft, dry daubs
pulls on Cupid’s Bow
the slow release
of the lower lip
a flue for fires
burned in softer centers
© Chagall 2013
Friday night, Autumn 1969 – Kitchen of a railroad flat, 12th St. off Avenue B, across from 12th St Park
Ruth’s aproned mom, tostones, hot oils, sopa de mondongo, floured curves.
© Chagall 2013
Of course it’s my field
where your horse stands
Snowflakes fry my frozen ground
chill me solely
though you are welcome to stay
if as you travel you recall
all that’s been lost
Time at the rock
and bread at the table
Crumbs at the card game
kissed away
Under blankets
and crisp sheets
Atop the lavender
beneath first snow
With Time
tense and tired
Till
Spring thaw then
Death is . . .
after all
© Chagall 2013
The story of her life,
how she flits
in and out?
Hold that thought,
she’ll be right back . . .
She’s got a thousand eyes
except for two, unlike Impressionists
who have just enough
dots in their shade
© Chagall 2013
An Original Jam from Alphabet City
Carlos Chagall, D. Rivera, Papo C., Eric Greco
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
Summer, 1963, 13th Street between Avenues A & B, across from the A&P
Old man scrapes cherry-lemon-chocolate ice, dime scoops, youth, starched white cups.
© Chagall 2013
Originally posted on SEPT 4, 2013. Hoping your holidays are wonderful. —Carlos
Alphabet City 