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
I do shots
of sugar dots
shaken
nonpareils
© Chagall 2015
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
She got her brother his own bag,
of assorted chocolate truffles.
He opened those that Christmas day.
“So you won’t sneak into my room
anymore and take mine.”
“You take dese ones, the boo wappers.”
They both smiled at his largesse.
She left him that following year
for college, while he stayed behind.
And when mom and pop passed away,
they saw each other less and less,
except here and there, now and then.
And when he leaves, she finds small gifts,
tucked in odd corners: nonpareils,
cherries and bittersweet sandies.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Alphabet City 