In this room of southerly light
are objects more precisely defined
than abstraction – concepts
topographically smoothened by
the erosion of ground around figure,
bulbous impressions upon my tactile cortex
is touch.
© Chagall ∞
In this room of southerly light
are objects more precisely defined
than abstraction – concepts
topographically smoothened by
the erosion of ground around figure,
bulbous impressions upon my tactile cortex
is touch.
© Chagall ∞
Too much optimism is cloying
while actuality is not quite as stark
as the realists might think
There is truth in the ground
but one needs to make figure
go away to see dark matter
The two profiles are the urn
a kiss creates then spills an ewer of honey
making for sticky back and fore grounds
Your aroma is metal, flinty
yet underneath sweet like talc
provoked aflame you are caramel
Stretched, kept in contact too long we fuse
the undersides along the length of our arms
our bellies plus our thighs adhere
Erasing the lines that define us
we become amorphous form with shading
Chagall 2016
If I stretch out long,
first flex, then point,
extend tendons, brush
against you, by chance
would you do the same?
My figure fits
your ground perfectly,
soft sanded curves,
mortise to tenon,
tongue ‘n’ groove.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013