The woods were lovely, dark and deep,
And I’ve fulfilled my pledge to keep,
With miles behind me now I sleep,
With miles behind me now I sleep.
With great humility, respect and love for Robert Frost
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Archive for December, 2016
Dear Sara – I was deeply saddened today to realize it will take less time to attain your parents’ age than has transpired since we first met. Desperately breathing irregularly. Love, Carlos
© Chagall 2016
This very rough draft alternates haiku from Love found-lost-found and The birth and death of stars in preparation for subsequent massaging into A form called Loku. I am always surprised by the creation of new imagery that arises from this very mechanical step of the process. —CC
Stars are formed in clouds
Of gas and dust, nebulae
Nuclear at core
The eddies mist cold
Lavender melts under snow
Bleeds purple on white
Stars provide enough
Energy brightly for years
The exact lifetime
Silence glistens here
Chilled pools beckon promising
Reflection under
We are born of stars
So proud until we pulsar
When fusion ceases
Among all two find
A sense of having been there
Empathetic eyes
Eons erase hope
What once would light forever
Turns to gamma ray
Shall never lose me
Shouts beyond the din recede
To vast empty stretch
Pridefully suns sear
Hot too fast, too self-consumed
No cheeks yet to burn
Circular water
Too near the edge of the falls
The promise to drown
Godspeed is lightspeed
We see until we are blind
Not invisible
Holding fast they plunge
In momentary freefall
Defying the crush
We are dark matter
More of us than meets the eye
Feel our gravity
Two plummet headfirst
Upturned soles to God’s heaven
The tickle of love
Ripped seams in space-time
Blessed beings emerge headfirst
The dead prefer breach
Plumes of graceful froth
Envelop twin beating hearts
Up until the sere
Nothing left to burn
Suns die everyday out here
To leave voids of love
Suddenly without
Love’s denouement sings sadly
Still ache crescendos
Massive cores collapse
Passages to yesterday
Bridges to Other
Melody solo
Lost, searching harmonically
Hearts rapt atonal
When stars burn cooler
Life has opportunity
Everywhere blue worlds
Shall never find me
Resounds off wet chamber walls
Where echos loiter
The scent of Goddess
Permeates all creation
Sweet salinity
A flickering flame
Somewhere a flue, air to breathe
Pinpoint light quite dim
Life is atmosphere
Creatures born to see the light
Watercolorists
Ascension too fast
Lungs explode before tongues meld
Alive once again
Fine pointillism
Clarity from a distance
Planets at the edge
Shout hallelujah
Frenzied oxygenation
Salt water on lips
Accelerating
Behind us time looms ahead
Wrapped implicitly
Love again refrains
Adrift on sunny sandbars
Palm fruits, dates, acai
We are young again
Stellate beings thrice reborn
Twice kissed we are alone
Two swimmers azure
Water beaded sky blues hope
Refracted visions
Before words we were
Nothing, pointed subtlety
Essentially stars
Will never lose me
Mouthed indistinguishably
There underwater
I tuned in the mind
of a dog tonight, I think
a Taipei maybe.
Though I can’t be certain
I thought I heard: I love
you now, but back in the day
I swear I’d have eaten you whole.
© Chagall 2016
I am tired with alphabet words
aren’t you?
The C word, the D word, the F word, the H word, the J word,
the K word, the L word, the N word, the Q word, the S word,
etcetera, etcetera
my word!
I apologize if I offended anyone by leaving out their offending word
Here’s the plan:
assemble everyone in the U.S.
Yankee Stadium is too small,
so maybe we rent the Grand Canyon for a day.
(I know people who know people
from the Hualapai Tribal Nation and the Havasupai Tribe
so this is a non-issue, as they say)
We set up microphones and Marshall Amps
all along the bottom of the Inner Gorge
everyone gets a turn to shout out their words
from A to Z
crank the volume up to 10 and get it all out
once and for all
ALL THE HATE WORDS!
let them ring out and echo there
from the 3 billion year old Vishnu Schist at the bottom of the Gorge
to the 300 million year old Kaibab Limestone there at the rim
rattle the fossils in the strata
declare how insignificant we are
After this day, while we cannot officially disallow the use of the words,
we can agree not to be offended any longer
by any of it
We will then adjourn to the banks of the Colorado River
where we will have the largest tailgating party
in the history of the world
pot luck – the theme is grandma’s recipes
served up family style
we will randomly select musicians from each nationality, ethnicity, and religion,
and have a battle of the bands into the wee hours
we will dance like nobody’s watching
conga lines visible from space
folk tales around the campfires
face painting for the kids
inter-caravan conjugal visits between consenting adults are optional
but encouraged
in the morning we will proceed back to the world
a rejuvenated and deeply bonded people
the world won’t know what hit ’em
we will NOT rest on our laurels
but will begin planning
our international event immediately
I’m thinking a desert maybe is an appropriate venue
at the end of my four years
we will be ready for the aliens
which, in my mind, is our real threat
My name is Carlos Chagall, and I approve this post.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Please see here for Here’s What I’ll Do If I Am Elected – Part I
There are no words
to express
the world within
where no words exist
© Chagall 2016
Lizards, turtles, and snakes,
moving awkwardly across the land
suffering from reptile dysfunction.
© Chagall 2016
The eddies mist cold
Lavender melts under snow
Bleeds purple on white
Silence glistens here
Chilled pools beckon promising
Reflection under
Among all two find
A sense of having been there
Empathetic eyes
Shall never lose me
Shouts beyond the din recede
To vast empty stretch
Circular water
Too near the edge of the falls
The promise to drown
Holding fast they plunge
In momentary freefall
Defying the crush
Two plummet headfirst
Upturned soles to God’s heaven
The tickle of love
Plumes of graceful froth
Envelop twin beating hearts
Up until the sere
Suddenly without
Love’s denouement sings sadly
Still ache crescendos
Melody solo
Lost, searching harmonically
Hearts rapt atonal
Shall never find me
Resounds off wet chamber walls
Where echos loiter
A flickering flame
Somewhere a flue, air to breathe
Pinpoint light quite dim
Ascension too fast
Lungs explode before tongues meld
Alive once again
Shout hallelujah
Frenzied oxygenation
Salt water on lips
Love again refrains
Adrift on sunny sandbars
Palm fruits, dates, acai
Two swimmers azure
Water beaded sky blues hope
Refracted visions
Will never lose me
Mouthed indistinguishably
There underwater
See here for 17 haiku from Theme 1: The Birth and Death of Stars
17 for wordcoaster (full 1st draft)
The next step in the process is to weave the 34 haiku of the 2 themes into the Loku form.
These haiku are intended to be used as raw clay would to sculpt.
© Chagall 2016
The eddies mist cold
Lavender melts under snow
Bleeds purple on white
Silence glistens here
Chilled pools beckon promising
Reflection under
Among all two find
A sense of having been there
Empathetic eyes
Shall never lose me
Shouts beyond the din recede
To vast empty stretch
Circular water
Too near the edge of the falls
The promise to drown
Holding fast they plunge
In momentary freefall
Defying the crush
Two plummet headfirst
Upturned soles to God’s heaven
The tickle of love
Plumes of graceful froth
Envelop twin beating hearts
Up until the sere
Suddenly without
Love’s denouement sings sadly
Still ache crescendos
Melody solo
Lost, searching harmonically
Hearts rapt atonal
© Chagall 2016
The eddies mist cold
Lavender melts under snow
Bleeds purple on white
Silence glistens here
Chilled pools beckon promising
Reflection under
Among all two find
A sense of having been there
Empathetic eyes
Shall never lose me
Shouts beyond the din recede
To vast empty stretch
Circular water
Too near the edge of the falls
The promise to drown
Holding fast they plunge
In momentary freefall
Defying the crush
Two plummet headfirst
Upturned soles to God’s heaven
The tickle of love
Plumes of graceful froth
Envelop twin beating hearts
Up until the sere
© Chagall 2016
Alphabet City 