Were they private,
your reveries?
What makes a day
less perfect?
Was the tour
never whirlwind enough?
Enough time
for our echoes to fleet?
Finally, days
last.
By fire, wishes
grew warm, sometimes fond.
Regards were not always
best.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Now I cry
over small things,
just little matters
irreplaceable,
breakable you
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Love, it seems,
must also remind
of the sadness in the world,
of all that we need
to protect against.
From sorrow arises
love. Two wrapped-up as one
is love, a pretty bow.
What we stand to lose is all
we’ve ventured to gain.
At the heart’s gate,
a note pinned by a thistle,
so flyaway, sways
in the morning breeze,
discernible only in moonlight,
its message faded by rain.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Even though you’re here with me now
I want you to know
I’m elsewhere
walking on pavement
slick with rain
watching bars and hearts empty.
Bring me back
just hold me dear,
tell me it’s all right,
kiss me softly
in dark rooms at the edge of town,
hear far-away whistles blow.
I’ve never made love
in a first-floor flat,
have you?
So close to the street
but so far from heaven.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Won’t you cradle me?
Mother Earth will swallow you . . .
Ancient songs you’d sing
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Hmm . . .
where was I?
Before she came
into my life
and totally disrupted
my flow
where was I?
I need to get back
to that point,
that me
when I was so ready
to love someone
exactly like her
hmm . . .
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Don’t leave me Chloe
fill the eve with your wonder
‘fore mourning ends life
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Found an old roll of film in a worn bag
I used to carry traveling summers:
tight-wound canister, stills undeveloped,
Kodachrome, color, one-twenty, twelve-shot.
Long gone light, maybe the time when we smiled
that August day, wind-streaked, of the ocean
waters that churn yet somewhere, but not here.
Sand grains caught in the uptake spool,
on the bottom of the leather duffel,
brushed perhaps from your hands, your face,
the nape of your neck, at the end of day.
Tanned children trot with kites along the shore
their voices trailing faint but still alive
arabesques of laughter atop the waves
where young swimmers start journeys to Europe,
or Asia, or just to the buoy and back.
Bi-plane pulls a banner
across graying skies, says All you can dream!
Bare bulbs light the boardwalk,
the tick-a-tee spin-down of Fortune’s Wheel
stops here. Does the sand still hold your body?
And when autumn came I left the bag packed,
amazing how things can keep when untouched.
The film? The labs have all closed down,
there’s no place left on earth to develop,
to bring to life the life that was that day –
Kodachrome is now just a curio.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
She said
I loved you then
the songs you used to sing
convinced that life for one was wrong
till now
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
You and I
on this road
it’s now
once a lifetime
whenever we cross
arriving in sun
or passing at noon
one night
we left under stars
we remember
the last time together
this is very rare
for two like us
it’s eternal
the glimpse behind
but there’s something quite
different ahead . . .
can you feel it?
quickly!
oh, way too quickly
the road begins to fade
hold me as always then
till we meet again
let this be the kiss
to tide us over
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Alphabet City 