Archive for December, 2013


Momo

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Poetry aspires
and says that

Not unlike
humans

Theme’s
intent

One’s
we

© Chagall 2013

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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

Broach

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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

A.S. DEC 30, 2013

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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

Almost Unbroken

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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

Quick Miniature

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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

Afloat

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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

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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

The Words Escape Me

Originally posted on SEPT 4, 2013. Hoping your holidays are wonderful. —Carlos

Alphabet City

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Don’t write a sonnet
if a scream will do.

© Carlos Chagall, 2013

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