She did not know John Barleycorn Must Die, nor the effects of tire tracks across one's back (I can see you had your fun!) ...and so my signals turned from green to red cc: Chagall 2021
Tag Archive: Jimi Hendrix
I lay color down
to highlight not
necessarily to enunciate.
Like a kite o’er head
in early bedtime, sparklers
and spiraled streamers.
Asleep in slow moving
breezes under bundles of coats
and warm sweaters.
In arms that hold
endless days upon piers.
Sometimes the path
is batik.
© Chagall 2014
At the piano, I play a light blue,
my left hand punctuates, strident bulbous,
circles of gray, droplets of black timing.
My right hand ripples arpeggios, brisk
splashes of gold, Pollockesque, allegro.
Musically, on pilot-automatic.
Out the window, there in the sky, I see
major triads as clouds move slowly, pushed;
invisible winds above dissonance,
beyond the minor second. Zephyrs play
in the treetops, to and fro, suspended,
diminished, dominant, gin and tonic.
Then you arrive, a refrain at the door,
so I add the seventh, ninth, eleventh.
Your smile lifts me up in harmonics,
too many octaves high, in overtones
that crash the normal frequencies, like bells
in heavens, all is hallowed, on this night.
On ground, a breeze stirs the honeysuckle
love, pianofortissimomente.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Alphabet City 