Tag Archive: Genesis


Ultimately

Crisp incessant smacks across faces
then tears flow deliciously lips
lick my lashes

leaving me only
more lonely than now

She waits in style for moments to gather
her future is wrapped in red sash
or maybe her past
peeks through

There it goes again
on the breeze when suddenly
I drop

Dizzy in spirals
from heights attained glory
repeating some wordy world view

Wouldn’t you?
Coo-ka-choo

Tangled in branches
snarled in the bramble
I scurry to the roar of the falls

Aqueous foam
it’s oxygen-rich here

massive turbulence
magnetic churn of moon tides

I will not
hold on

I will not restrain
the flow

I will plummet headfirst
ride the scree like an aquanaut

I pray to be crushed
under oceans of water
reborn in a niched quiet eddy

on my back in warm sunlight

I croon
with these long extinct birds

Chagall 2015

 

Now Hush

chagall-backdrop4.jpg

We only had words, no meaning,
long liturgical drones,
endless hours, sonorous
dirge-like ponders, attempts
to reveal the roiling core
of our humanity, of love as ground
for creation, essentially to invert,
to feel likewise on the inside,
overlooking already being
once removed from having once felt,
a mist on the face of the water.

© Chagall 2015

The Alpha’s Bet

chagall backdrop

Hear the whisperer?
Ambient prayer in shadows, the dead hush too still
to christen the eve the big night before the day
when hard rains will fall.

Soak once parched sere ground,
fault lines that begin to show true and harsh intent,
exposed molten core bubbles up to shape islands
that cool and then sway.

On waters not named
still steaming in afterbirth biological,
delicate creatures emerge, rear their souls, awed by
wondrous beginnings.

Sulfur smells like sex
atop the fuzz of new earth, mossy, wet, and green;
the world is yawning, awake, kinetic, pensive –
contemplates its fate.

Allies band, foes die,
even in these early days survival reigns hard;
intelligence lurks, sentience searches for theme
to grasp the moment.

To give life meaning
words must capture the meaning, but there is no meaning,
there’s only intent, longing, desire for the light
absent the darkness.

The finger gives form,
shapes the world in seven days, give or take eons;
maybe just a whim or an essential craving:
innate creation

The remnants revolve,
grooved in concentric motions astrological,
suns rise over stones placed so to mark the passing.
Long live the solstice.

This too comes to pass.
All things fade away in time, hail hale whisperer!

© Carlos Chagall, 2013

Other poems in this form include:

Lithographs

For Morgana Le Fay

 

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