The note of the birdsong lies solidly
suspended in the hollow of blue space.
The temperature of my body is precisely
the degree of the world enveloping me.
A simple brushstroke, tapered glyphs
weighty enough to have gravity, flutters.
About you I watch dusty particles dance
in light that is more than merely a halo.
Illumination.
© Chagall ∞
This morning on waking
before even a rub, a squint
or reaching for the spectacles by the bedside
I lie here and stare
at the shapes at play
in the darkness of pre-dawn
The artist is a fan
of dark color on the palette
to capture the amoeba who swims there
in the deep blue paisley soup
Until the dawning
when one-celled creatures
multiply, turn millipeds
rise from the brine
rear heads
brush teeth
and head out to face the day
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Alphabet City 