The cardinal knows it was too much risk, too long a flash of red in sparse woods, he lingers on dead branch atop limestone, now prime within the hawk's cross-hairs, his tawny mate safe, fled away to the distance cc: Chagall 2022
Category: Poetry
I've never read you say Eye Drop, yet you are the Eye, and I would have thought it an apparent play on words, to describe a dessert, or a soup of yours or a wrestling move, maybe a syndicated column about society scandal, but no, you have yet to write it cc: Chagall 2022
I remember one day, when I was smaller than now, my grandmother received a large envelope, ribboned with foreign stamps, par avion She weeps when she opens it and looks inside I ask Grandma, why are you crying? In her broken English she says From Bachory, Ukraine, моя сестра She hands me the photo, a young woman, holding a child in front of large thicket aside a thatched house On the back, in cursive Cyrillic, it reads Noisy are the rustling groves Glance sister at this photo... Memories are there It is signed With Love Kateryna, 26, Ivan, 2 (1910) cc: Chagall 2022
Strange how falling out of love feels so much like falling in. cc: Chagall 2022
Used to be do what you want as long as it doesn't impose or harm me and loved ones really, I don't care what you do, but as soon as it starts to spill over that line, well then...right? But what does that really mean at the end of the day do you pray for guidance at all for one and none for all, and justice is a word, just as it was in the beginning of this verse which is really a round like you row your boat 3 sight-impaired mice or my favorite of all Kookabura What was I saying? cc: Chagall 2022
"I know what's wrong with this sentence", she said. This has been a Poetic Service Announcement from Carlos Chagall. If this had been a real poem, you would have been advised to seek reference in your nearest guide to punctuation and style. Love and peace for you all.
In the warmth of my home, from behind my window, I watch the young sparrow lift off from her branch, to come fly directly at me, actually to me - for she sees me, she trusts me, I have fed her and her's I have seen many birds die hitting glass, I am helpless to shoo her away in time Instead I punch with my bare-knuckles, swing from my hips, maintain rock-solid deltoids, the pane of glass shatters shards, blood, my feathered friend scatters not exactly unscathed, but safely broken through to my side to alight on my dwarf lemon tree cc: Chagall 2022
I am the lip of a granite step, honed to fine-edge, whetted sharp, a blade upon which you tread everyday, come what may, c'est la vie In the metro no songbird sings though the echo is so strong, almost holy Bring us home, click-clack, sweet steel on rail, Tom Thumb, chug-chugga Elevated stops...shh...hear the air-brakes, squeals 'round the roundest corners, runners seek oil, high over the city... On the subway home I doze to the sports page dream of powered drives to center, torque-propelled strong hips, action, sympathetic knees, breaking wrists, the geometry of grace, the boys of summer kiss the cheeks of autumn ladies Sweet grass, new-mown. City sparrows on ginkgo trees in high branches aside the el, lilt fossil melodies, call to me through open train doors to wake me at some station after mine I smell my own sweat there on my clothes, the heat of the train an oven, bakes me proper I rise, exit to debut on this foreign platform, sad to have missed my stop, to have missed my time I search the faces around me, for the one to help point the way back, the staircase to the other way cc: Chagall 2022/2013
undocumented diaspora is so sad, losing sight of all who came before, except for what we hold, in mind, in heart cc: Chagall 2022
The past is underlined and bold, but the future is superscript-italic cc: Chagall 2022
Alphabet City 