Stars burned bluer then
Breathless joyful morning songs
God today made man
© Chagall 2016
Tag Archive: joy
She couldn’t
remember which
we’d said we’d want
so she brought both
calliopes as well
as kaleidoscopes how
wonderful they went
hand-in-hand
Chagall 2016
Her tears
in moonlight
Mercury atop
cocoa velvet
Chagall 2016
I fall in love
too often for I mistake sorrow
for the amorous
Perhaps it’s my sense
of being atop the chain
striving to deliver the lonely
their fair due
So I would die in your place
loving you more than myself
mistakenly standing
the world on its end
Chagall 2015
How creative the moment it constellates
like stars in time set off little flares
I’m awake I’m awake I’m alive!
against real sky in reel time. Let’s!
you and I do jigs on the dance floor
wave our flames high in the air
We’re awake, we’re alive!
© Chagall 2015
I had missed what was on the other side,
had never flipped it over, a small thing really
when one’s life is scribed on page two
© Chagall 2015
Today’s snow is like that night years ago with my Dad
under the street lamp, both on our backs looking up
making angels, I not yet ten and he near sixty,
giggling together while the flakes wet our faces,
how pink his cheeks are, how deep are his eyes
in the blue of that night.
© Chagall 2015
I plant a seed
it grows
until
it doesn’t
I climb till
I abandon
the pass
the past
you’ve said
still lingers
in small corners
the high shelves
of cupboards
tucked away
summer
cottage-gray mornings
burned clean
brilliance in
sunrise
a line of us
miles long
cross-legged
on the beach
staring out
to the ocean
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
My smile’s upturned
at the top of my head,
I imagine it now
to reside there,
inside and high
at the crown, it’s void
of the need for my face,
any muscle or tension.
In suspended
jubilation,
I simply will
will myself
simple, to be
me, not a care
in this world,
go dumb.
Mine’s a Cheshire grin
that you can’t see,
but inside I glow
with big polished teeth.
My sobs are just
camouflage, first
you see me, and then . . .
you don’t.
A lot of folks cry
on the inside,
not me!
I’m laughing all the way
to the wake,
which
by the way,
is on the way,
to the bank.
Keep your wits
about you man,
’cause a cold morning breaks everyday.
© Carlos Chagall 2013
Alphabet City 