I have an odd dynamic with my father-in-law:
He is a 90 year old man but a very new soul, whereas
I am merely half his age but my soul has traveled twice
by thrice his. Our interplays are often quite quirky.
© Chagall 2017
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Saturday – love & peace. —CC
I am not Carlos
nor am I the person
who pretends to be
Carlos. She is not
me, I tell myself
I’m not like her,
of the haunting grin,
with seeming knowledge
of my delicate whispers,
scribed by her spectral hand.
© Chagall 2015
Infinitesimally minute circles of being
align, vortex along one malleable cortex.
I am distributed, I am a planetary system,
I hum prismatic with colors of sound primordial.
© Chagall 2017
Remember that Valentine’s Day is just around that bend of time we are calling The Weekend. Love to all. —CC
Must love be a foregone conclusion
that precedes the need for dark-chocolate cherry cordials
or do those magnificent trifles warrant a daily place in our lives
independent of any lofty notions like love?
Chagall 2016
I find I
am torn
perforated
ripped along
dotted lines
Someday
I will
reassemble
sans
seams
© Chagall 2017
Sometime when I go to steal away
yet another piece of banana cake,
I find that one precedes me and
leaves behind a healthy half-slab.
I chase each bite with a small palmful
of dark chocolate bits. I feel theobromine
envelop my being. Look out world, I’m in love!
© Chagall 2017
Snow, an extended heaven-sent sigh
expresses its passion as a function
of the angle of its fall; precipitation
begat and chilled by the wind, a fluttery
jitterbug afoot overhead. My scarf wraps
twice to warm me, beguiled amid words that
form between flakes, they speak you know –
to warn me there just ahead is a hand
reaches out to embrace but the space between,
the chasm divide is too great, still we blow,
still we fall to the ground, a powder, a mist
slowly wisps away in time, nestled deep in the throes,
in our throwaway wraparound world we propel ourselves
deeper each time we fall, backwards off-stage I trust
you’ll catch me never let me fall,
I would break along dotted lines …
snow from afar
each little star
is snow.
© Chagall 2017
This past election day
I voted neither red nor blue
but instead prayed for
the rebirth of the cool, for
Nefertiti, and in my own silent way
cast my write-in vote for
Sir Miles Dewey Davis III,
with John Coltrane and Bill Evans
as VP and Sec of State, respectively.
© Chagall 2017
Love you all. Enjoy.
Chagall
Today while reading Figure and Ground, I highlight
passages that I do not want to remember.
© Chagall 2017
Alphabet City 