Tag Archive: family


Grandpa would flash a spray of cool water
each morning on the panting gray cement
stones about the yard, colors and hues
of the earth’s minerals flushed deep
brought to life in small puddles
accumulated there near the clover tufts
holding tight in the cracks, the crevices
abutting the frame, the scene at large,
we pan higher than we did that day,
all of our life there in neat little
bunches of boxes in boxes where people we love
carry on, carry out their days, turning on and in
and out and back, to a different way as hope goes,
newly baptized, in deep commune, confirmed, wed to all,
in repose amid the somber hymns of concluding rites,
beneath grandpa’s spray, a flash of silver liquid,
an old man’s giggling face lost in the brilliant sun
of a promise forever solvent.

© Chagall ∞

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Goodnight!

I was your sister, you were older, I listened,
I thought you knew things I might need to know
even though you often said so very little, and
in the end I want you to know I will miss you,
I am younger, oddly no wiser, I regret you not
having known me better, as I you.

© Chagall ∞

Dearest Eve

Near a century ago, cousins
from the old country had written
to her, my grandmother, to tell her of
new life, love, old life, and death,
she’d missed, the chronology of
the beautifully handwritten cursive
on paper unlike any I’ve ever seen
in size and touch, with a scent of
many years contained there in the folds and
the unfolding of many reads, here and there
a letter blurred, the errant pen of
the author or a teardrop.

© Chagall 2016

Diaspora

Where do all
the tumbleweeds go
after they’ve blown away?

Where do all
the scorpions hide
during the rain storm?

Watch me now,
James Brown said,
watch me as I bust a move.

Radio
even back then
out there in the desert.

© Chagall 2016

Table 12

Yes – perfect – place her there,
far from the maddening roar of
the love these two share.

© Chagall 2016

The Interim

The lights are going out,
not forever – just for now.

We have coffee and tea,
we can make bread if need be,
sing, play cards …

Only for a little while,
only just for now.

© Chagall 2016

Parlay

The poems I write are like
the dollar bets my grandmother made
everyday needing something
to ride on

Chagall 2016

 

From My Grandmother’s Window

I fear we’re becoming
people who have no concern
for those who succeed us

Instead we live for the moment
without an obligating sense
to make Gaia inheritable

Similarly there are those
who have no reverence
for those who precede us

Family, tradition, culture and mores
reduce to biology resembling nothing
more than a gene pool

May they drown in the shallow end

Chagall 2016

The Immediacy Of Intimacy

Sunday early eve
eastern standard
time

Her parents are old
but still alive
and mine are still
quite dead

We both hang on
we four

Plus others within
our gravity

We call
family

Our love traces
many roots
to get here

We are leaves, we are buds
on a tree growing

Sunday early eve
eastern standard
time

Chagall 2015

A Hug And A Dollar

In this more recent age
of high-tech thievery and thuggery
I find myself more and more
missing my grandma, simpler days.

Chagall 2015

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