She loved Frost but was less equivocal about the end,
choosing water over fire and ice.
© Chagall 2017
Tag Archive: death
The balloon from her last birthday
I’d left to bob on the ceiling,
over the years had withered and died,
and now resembles a pink snail on
a white-ribbon leash, there
in the corner behind the bookcase.
© Chagall 2017
Another year and the war would end
but on the day my friend Johnny died
the triangle of his flag hung looking
over the city from his mom’s window.
The summer we were ten he stands in a sprinkler,
in his boxers (not really a swimsuit) with
the biggest grin because it’s vacation and
life is good and the ice man is coming and
we’ve got a dollar to share.
© Chagall 2106
Christmas Morning on the Lower East Side when I was five
I awoke to find a tiny white baby grand piano alongside
the tree that crowded the front room of our railroad apartment.
Not quite a toy, it was a real instrument crafted to stand
not two feet high. On the beautiful bench sat a card in script
that simply said Love Dad.
This year, for what would be his 100th Christmas, I will place
my hands on the keyboard again to wish him peace in silent night.
© Chagall 2016
John Glenn said as he crossed earth’s line:
At Zero G and I feel fine.
© Chagall 2016
The woods were lovely, dark and deep,
And I’ve fulfilled my pledge to keep,
With miles behind me now I sleep,
With miles behind me now I sleep.
With great humility, respect and love for Robert Frost
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Despite what you’ve heard, indifference killed the cat;
curiosity served merely to resurrect it.
© Chagall 2016
There’s an artist in France
collects heartbeats
Tens upon tens of
thousands of
pulses
Moments in lives of
those who will
in time be gone
Survived
only by these
I wonder does
the data show
if broken hearts
beat softer
Chagall 2016
I retrace the line of
her handwritten note
to make me feel
she’s still here
Chagall 2016
Alphabet City 