Archive for April, 2018


Wrock ‘N Wroll

It’s written her writing is wrought
with heart-wrenching sadness; but
I think they’re wrong – she’s more wry.

Chagall 2018

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Bon Mot 11

I never defer to the better
judgment of others

Chagall 2018

Flee the hospital
Die watching hummingbirds feed
Alive on the porch

Chagall 2018

Just Barely Merely

I pray for peace, love, longevity,
romance beneath an arch, a kiss along the Seine
an end to sorrow and hate –

the scent is perfect here
I will paint so that nothing mars
the essential, somehow I must grab and apply
small points of hundreds of millions of color beads that combine to give
meaning

life
is color

we are all
in the end

light

Chagall 2018

The Iceman

I wish my father-in-law was still alive;
he’d help me get the mouse-nest out of the shed.

Chagall 2018

Perpetuity

I will have kissed her face in the warm downpours,
brushed snow from her lashes, stood her umbrella in summer sand,
and pondered with her the golden passing of autumn,
every year since I’ve known her

Chagall 2018

She screams Read me! so imperatively
a cascade of chills oversweeps me, my arms
and abdomen profoundly hollow in the moment,
and though it feels to be a big hall surrounding us,
she and I are under the low-ceiling beams of her attic bedroom
her voice is not actually echoing off distant walls
but rather is muffled by all of the dampening accouterment
that constitute the mementos of her life, the momentum of her years
collectibles from seashores and places where calliopes played
souvenirs from dances and plays and carnival rides
photographs she vowed to savor and cherish
through time

Please just read it she asks, handing me the manuscript
and so I begin

Chagall 2018

Phoneme In

Savory is to macabre as
goulash is to ghoulish,
such is the nuance of
the langwitch.

Chagall 2018

To All Tiny Dancers

you dance and shake
your head vibrantly
extremities splay
and sweat sprays
about your beautiful
mane like holy water
from a sprinkler: your
music is a priest

in the light of the ballroom bass-line
you are a powder-blue nimble step-in-time

so lovely to behold – to be held

and then when the beat is gone and
tired calves hold sway, I will massage
you back to life to dance another day

Love and kisses from CC, 2018

Sometimes we wake up in the middle of the night
and toss a coin either to have sex or to make pasta carbonara.
Either outcome, once complete, we brush and floss and return to sleep satisfied.

Chagall 2018

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