I can’t open jars or snap my fingers to the beat
Feeling numb, I need some kind of dumb thumb treatment
© Chagall 2015
Tag Archive: fun with words
On a scale
from one to ten
just how good
was that chow fen?
© Chagall 2014
Saltwater frozen
floes dark violet
watch crystals
Aquinas on lust
Venus globally warm
Arctic arrows hunt
stones cut stars on top
en cabochon
© Chagall 2014
I sleepwalk all day
and lie all night
Call me
somnambulist fabulist
© Chagall 2014
I’ve set myself the goal
to approximate the intensity
of a scream here in a poem
Epithets in all caps
seems too obvious
and besides that’s point in time
what I’m seeking is something more
A gradual swell that starts
as a mere perturbation
or perhaps more an uneven rise
to crescendo, jagged edges
exasperation, the incredulous
mortification, shit all over me
fucking duck bastards
that’s right, walk away!
© Chagall 2014
I
wink
my left eye
then my right
I
bring symmetry to seduction
Though
that last one
did feel palsied
A little
bit too much
pull
in the cheek
© Chagall 2013
Her name was Brochette,
Brucie for short,
a crusty hot
cheesy babe.
With morbes so bogged
and pleats quite slunked,
she’d R-Sock
your Cameroon flat.
© Chagall, 2013
I know that I’m someone
I’d like to know
I’m sure we’d get along
after all we’ve
much in common
loll about calm
commiserate
offer a shoulder
to cry on
cautious about
cricks in the neck.
together we toast
one glass raised
forgo fine rings
of crystal on crystal.
Angry
beside ourselves
twice removed
giving each other
the once over
partners together
a dollar parlay
on the Daily Double
end up winners
celebrate two to a bed
on a one night stand
with uni-dimensional two timers
who have a special tonight
one in the hand
and two in the bush
once upon a time
two princes were born
raised by twin mothers
each with a one-track mind
I would hug me hard
if we were friends
I would never
let me go
© Chagall, 2013
Never differing random patterns,
sometimes forever twice.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Shake me hard
if I speak in tongues
bang my head
bring me ’round again
hide me in the hemlock
corners of a hedgerow maze
tat my wedding veil
from Queen Anne’s Lace
overcast pine-green days
where our circle has regressed
to snacking on morsels
from glue traps
chasing it down
with poke berry juice
our joints are inverted
at odd angles
hypothetically apocalyptic
pathetically elliptic
the smallest contaminants
of the planet hold sway
while we scratch away
the scabs for hours
the tedium
of delirium tremors
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Alphabet City 