short
star gazers
long
a
lot
like
the
tall
ones
or are they just farther away?
Chagall 2016
short
star gazers
long
a
lot
like
the
tall
ones
or are they just farther away?
Chagall 2016
The breeze is welcome tonight,
blows gently from the southern tip
of the island.
The kitchen curtains
light and sheer, lift and fall,
lull and frail, alight and float
from this fire-escape.
A scouring sound, the street-cleaner’s truck
big brushes, soft cymbals, a slow waltz but jazz.
Someone sings the body fluorescent,
a silhouette there! hops between rooftops,
the lookout for errant low-flying dreams
flushes the pigeons from their coops
who turn to spirals of doves.
I am as young as this moment allows
but no less. I’ll have been here again.
And morning light blinds bright silver.
Chagall 2015
Hey you chasing wisps tonight, so lucky the clouds hang low
in bitterwarm air so easy to fly when it’s like this.
You see me there, hover just over
the rooftop, below you I wave in wan moonlight.
I was once on a sea that was lit like this,
so many moons and just enough time to crest every one.
I love you, you know.
© Chagall 2015
Destined to languish atop dead trees,
instead her lost bird sings.
© Chagall 2015: This poem was inspired by http://evapoetex.wordpress.com/2015/03/27/canary-spirit-poem/
In my dreams of her
we walk
through patches
of dense green
under sun so gold
that oddly casts
no shadow
she squats near
a stream
waves her hand
through the shallow
water
back and forth . . .
while I stare down at her
from too high above
I can hear
the quiet lapping
as a private darkness
closes around us
and I ask
Is there a heaven?
At that she stops
her paddling
abruptly
rises
taller than she was
in life
her face
just inches from mine
soft dimples
near her eyes
I’d forgotten
and she says
Yes, my dear
though everyone here
is starving
© Carlos Chagall, 2013