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Coolin’ With the Top Down

My head deeply velvet in foliage about me
I am fascinated by so many facets of light at every angle
Within the emerald’s deepest colors nearly ebon I bathe
Amid hues that bleed like madras from immersion in sky
Green on blue like Miles

Chagall 2017

No More Before After Then

Low stars

Bright moonlight
in the dark garden

Running downhill
breathless in the cold night
turning to first kiss you

Chagall 2017

Autumnal

The hummingbirds of summer are gone
now suddenly

Chagall 2017

Idling

Nothing to say today; the sweetness of the air does suffice
Sugary cool waters I gulp, I breathe briskly – it’s cold
But I am still warm so I exhale the mist that mimics my shape
I am there in the wind’s disentangling

Chagall 2017

Journal Entries 516 and 517

516: The inflexibility of myopic points-of-view
interferes with the achievement of nuanced perfection.

517: #42 should be retired from all sports.

Chagall 2017

I remember saying Dad, you want a half-and-half?
And he joked You don’t know how to make a half-and-half
And I said Absolutely! I got stout and ale and I even got pretzels
He said Yeah?  We had two each. It was a wonderful day.

Chagall 2017

The edge of each business card
contained DNA.

Chagall 2017

When getting mind-fucked
is one obliged to come?

Chagall 2017

Monsieur Collins

My Art of Drowning splayed pages-down to On Turning Ten
A cursive vee from damp and settling she coaxes back to book-form

Chagall 2017

Click here to read “On Turning Ten”

A Pied Balloon

Chagall's avatarAlphabet City

The arc of my float,
over the village,
a shallow parabola,
steady, deliberate
Pan on a taut guide,
level with those in the loge.

No one flies like this these days,
not like this anymore;
jump, trust, merge into updraft,
simple flip-gravity, easier to float
if you close your eyes.

How I love ascension,
my body carved, massages the flight:
Victory winged at Samothrace.

I’m young and crazed,
a romantic in the gondola, a pied balloon,
throwing out ballast to rise!

At night, low altitude,
I cherish the sight, your fires,
you hovered in the round,
my vantage point just above
tops of pines that surround.

Your laughter draws me,
I lower the flame,
I settle down,
pilot to a spot
right about where you sit.

© Carlos Chagall, 2013

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