Please don’t be offended
when I say you smell
like brine, sweet malolactic
rising probiotic, heady
bursting with life force
human doughy thing
that you are –
hey, where ya going . . .?
Chagall 2015
Please don’t be offended
when I say you smell
like brine, sweet malolactic
rising probiotic, heady
bursting with life force
human doughy thing
that you are –
hey, where ya going . . .?
Chagall 2015
I cling to her voice
as it emanates from silicon
compressed audio that’s naught but a
phantasm of her life and blood
no warm scent of talc but when I press
against the nape of her neck
when I lose myself
in the long float
down
Chagall 2015

This is our moment:
when the light off our bodies
travels for eons
and is as far away as long ago,
those who reside there
yet to come
will know our triumph
through the energy of our waves
and the ecstatic angles
of our dance.
© Chagall 2014
There’s a song we sing in the mountains
When clouds envelop the peaks
As stars overwhelm the senses
Our hymns overcome the air
We are born to be celestial
From star to dust to star
We constellate in the shape
Of beautifully human
© Chagall 2014

Faces come unglued and leave
behind light and vibration.
© Chagall 2014

Everyone is a person of color
everyone is a person
everyone is
ever one
© Chagall 2014

To those who don’t get it:
Please don’t hurt us
while we wait.
Especially since,
we wait for you.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013