Lydia awaits,
baptized at the riverside;
she invites us, “Stay.”
At Thayati’ra,
we sleep atop purple goods,
feed on simple breads.
“Strong heart, it’s farewell.”
He’d have liked you, my sister,
as I, most beloved.
Back at Sam’othrace,
I think of her, still smell her;
she is not like me.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
You can breathe this day,
yet have the gall to tell me
that there is no god?
Aromatic blooms,
life is stirring everywhere,
open up to joy.
Lie down on the earth,
spread eagle, navel to sky,
greet the ancient sun.
Germinate, seedling,
bud, grow, photo synthesize,
rise above your din.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
My favorite bistro’s
djangolicious: les nuages –
sex sweat smoke beat dance.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Delicate mango,
pink, sweet fruit drips, wet nectars,
she most Awakened.
Young Bimbisara
hums saturnine melodies,
his head on her breast.
Puffed gulab jamun,
her lips, tasty cardammon,
my Amrapali.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
You knew all along,
I wanted out of the rain,
to dry beside you.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
New people, just born,
at sea in sound and color,
each touch brings wonder.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Midnight, sparkled frost.
A full moon presides o’er fields,
where I’ll never lie.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Fresh heaven, new earth,
Jerusalem, the betrothed:
Love as he loves you.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Holly Go-Lightly,
ever so slightly being,
the point of it all.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Mount Suribachi.
Beautiful February.
Face down in red sand.
A zen garden, she
paints delicate strokes, canvas,
calls to final prayer.
Buddha and Truman,
tell us life is illusion,
a A bomb away.
A young, dashed Marine,
chants semper fi, hail mary,
far away Brooklyn.
Right after dead aim,
sunlight on Suribachi,
starlight on Greenpoint.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Alphabet City 