If death be not a parenthesis,
must life then be an ellipsis?
© Chagall ∞
Archive for February, 2017
A game of inches, halftones someday maybe
just a fingertip away from grasp, the thinnest
side of a prism edge, a place where souls slip
but not slide, inter-inter for one inter does not
suffice to suggest the slight of gap, the sleight
of the blue that is nearly blue, monochrome
intervals are what we are, variations in theme,
grande motif, leitmotif, light years away from any
home.
© Chagall ∞
We all come out in some way
someday we’ll all come out
stand hands at our sides
and be judged
not by peers
but by all.
Were you universally
good by all?
All points shy
are welcome
to a point.
How will you come out?
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Excited – coming out! I turn the knob,
step through and find, the rear of another closet.
© Chagall 2017
Read me blah! I’m moribund, impressing you with
blah! blah! words I’ve learned today blah! blah!.
© Chagall 2017
I have certainly been less legato of late,
still I’m not quite yet pizzicato.
© Chagall 2017
Watercolor me
Kaleidoscope fine light points
Diffuse me spectral
© Chagall 2017
I am a mob of one on the flash
A pulmonary conviction
The membrane of your choice
I am the Matador, Sinewy Eros
Entangling horns as they come
Nearer to thee than the moon
Dear Gaia
I am millions of deities rolled into One
A lozenge, a salve, a breath mint
As a harpsichord I traipse the body luscious
The perennial you plant
Every year hoping
Ground-breaking rip-roaring shattered
Glass
Jagged shards, Green clovers, Pink moons
Lucky charms and amulets
Around your ankles and thighs
Tigers and bears
Oh my!
Chagall 2015
The glass slipped; oddly
I hoped it would break.
© Chagall 2017
I swear I’ll be there for you downstream
where the rocks are smoothed by time.
© Chagall 2017
Alphabet City 