She never was able to conceive
how two halves can make a whole.
© Chagall 2016
Tag Archive: life
Near a century ago, cousins
from the old country had written
to her, my grandmother, to tell her of
new life, love, old life, and death,
she’d missed, the chronology of
the beautifully handwritten cursive
on paper unlike any I’ve ever seen
in size and touch, with a scent of
many years contained there in the folds and
the unfolding of many reads, here and there
a letter blurred, the errant pen of
the author or a teardrop.
© Chagall 2016
The woods were lovely, dark and deep,
And I’ve fulfilled my pledge to keep,
With miles behind me now I sleep,
With miles behind me now I sleep.
With great humility, respect and love for Robert Frost
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Dear Sara – I was deeply saddened today to realize it will take less time to attain your parents’ age than has transpired since we first met. Desperately breathing irregularly. Love, Carlos
© Chagall 2016
At the seam of the mist
she dances on shard.
The hurricane redoubles, whipped glass,
her lamp splays across the crag,
barefoot maniacal, strands of
soaked being, where sea becomes storm.
She brighter than the lightning
failing to illuminate her moment aflame.
The air is filled with
the howling song of massive woodwinds.
Perhaps calliopes
she whispers.
© Chagall 2016
The curtain is parted as she’d left it,
worlds continue passing by.
© Chagall 2016
Despite what you’ve heard, indifference killed the cat;
curiosity served merely to resurrect it.
© Chagall 2016
Sandwiched between her and the braver me,
I cautiously wander a bit farther away from the fray today
to a place where few boundaries abut.
© Chagall 2016
Where do all
the tumbleweeds go
after they’ve blown away?
Where do all
the scorpions hide
during the rain storm?
Watch me now,
James Brown said,
watch me as I bust a move.
Radio
even back then
out there in the desert.
© Chagall 2016
Crest absorbs warm rain
Lone bird soaking on a branch
Watery warbles
© Chagall 2016
Alphabet City 