Tag Archive: Astronomy


Self-Starter

I’ve reshaped the constellations
to reflect what I see

I have no interest in
how others see heaven

Makes it so easy
to now know the sky

Chagall 2015

Cartography

chagall backdrop

She’d shown me how to use the stars and so I found my way back home,
a simple path along the belt really, a dip rather than a rise at Hyades,
you’ll find me a hand-span below the Pleiades, more over your head,
one must marvel still at the intense lights of Rigel, Betelgeuse, and Sirius.

© Chagall 2015

Always A Kiss

chagall-backdrop4.jpg

Last night while gazing at the Pleiades
you remarked that at the time of light leaving
the cluster of sister stars, three hundred
light years away, Bach was newly appointed
concertmaster at the Weimar, and you and I
lay still unfolded, lovers of implicate order.

© Chagall 2014

Do You Hear The Stars?

chagall backdrop

Murmuring I can’t distinguish
clearly, the words incanted
more than prayers, I think
perhaps ancient formulae.

© Chagall 2014

Multiverse, But Only One Chorus

chagall backdrop

A hollow tube
filled with tones
and stars.

Icy blue
at the edge.

Nothing but
stars.

An expansive dome
shone with star-tone.

Dearest One,
Tonight tender doom?

No question!
Your Dear,
Dominique

© Chagall, 2013

 

Little Antsy

chagall backdrop

There’s no one for me who quite matches up,
the moons have ceased to align for a while.

There’s no one who can catch me then keep up,
they wax when I wane, they rock when I roll.

I can guess the card almost every time,
didn’t you just pull that from up your sleeve?

Stone with me, share blankets under moonlight,
tell me the stars are not that far away.

Let’s get off the grid, shoot them all the bird,
witness each full moon on the calendar.

Instead I’m surrounded by non dreamers,
those who are deluded by what is real.

Son-of-a-bitching-moronic-buzz-kills,
pissing on my clouds, stinking up heaven.

© Carlos Chagall, 2013

Mr. Todo’s List

Slapped, popped, miffed.
Slipped, pooped, missed.

Slept, peeked, mist.
Spent, packed, must.

Spilled, piled, mauled.
Spoilage, pillage, mileage.

Sparrows, pillows, hedgerows.
Persimmons, marshmallow fluff.

© Carlos Chagall, 2013

Unnamed Poem


The nougat,
the payload,
essence, Persistor,
sturdy like a solder weld,
planting me,
center of all things.

The outskirts of heaven
halo my awareness
arc the balloon-tie top
of my dome,
a distance I traverse,
easily, boldly,
with a sure,
strident gait,
leaving stars in my wake,
like glitter falling
from my sequined socks,
sparkle and glow.

Archetypal patterns
establish themselves
according to plan,
protons and photons,
“Oh My!.”

That gel,
placenta inside,
me, traces,
the shape,
nebula, I carve,
hover, envelop,
I give to,
draw from.

Soul-mate wanted:
Sanskrit,
chitlins,
Wiccan Chicana,
looking for
Banzai barrio warrior.

Who knows that she would

like to swing on a star,
carry moonbeams home in a jar
.

Sitting at a small table,
eating sweet cereal,
watching early morning
cartoons, the man
in the moon,
big smiley face,
above the horizon,

compressed, telephoto,

pre-school

memory.

Th-th-th-th-th-th-that’s all folks!

© Carlos Chagall, 2013

Here But Not


I have special drops
I place in my eyes,
to over-dilate my pupils.

To let in light
from distant stars,
ancient pink,
blue and white.

I trace a line,
from here to there,
with the glow-tip
of a Marlboro red,

from Orion, to Andromeda,
along nebulae and pulsars,
long gone ago,
but still my sky.

© Carlos Chagall, 2013

 

Haiku for Night Frost

Midnight, sparkled frost.
A full moon presides o’er fields,
where I’ll never lie.

© Carlos Chagall, 2013

%d bloggers like this: