I can ride
for a couple
hours more
you’d be amazed
what a difference
a moment makes
don’t go
there’s a moment here
that’s most profound
a way to corral
the happenstance
such that
you’ll never let it go
get hooked
it’s not a passing glance
but a salute
to the live
breathless?
so am I
tickles may flee
but not necessarily
so
butterfly tongues
nothing more
nor less
doesn’t have to end
in a messy way
keep it crisp
clean
cold
and oxygenated
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
and there was Marvin, collar turned up to the rain,
Detroit falsetto, soars and says, “I see you world,”
sandpapers your soul to a smooth edge,
the syncopate rat-a-tat of conga accentuates
the question brother, of what’s really happening,
drop the needle on Abraxas,
outwait the whir-up hiss,
the outer groove of the vinyl,
enter the ancient, the Mayan,
dulcet rubato, a samba for only you,
a reason to wield your magic sticks.
she used to live in a room full of mirrors,
when 6 was 9, restrung, upside-down,
a weary broom, sweeping debris off the ridge-line
at Pali Gap, where we’d drop downs off the edge of our hands.
at the bungalow, L.A. women on the freeway
scream at the tops of their lungs,
if anyone knows from whence the salt air.
big yellow taxis were way too expensive for us,
we walked, Williamsburg to Delancey,
searching for remnants of paradise paved over.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Alphabet City 