Times Square Station, a Wednesday in time, 8:30 AM So sad, no one naps on the subways nowadays. cc: Chagall 2022
Tag Archive: NYC
Dion singing about runaway girls,
makes me want to pull my heart
tighter around the years, they pass.
Kisses fade into scents of lilac
where lavender used to be, where
there will never be roses.
I couldn’t bear apologies from
so tender a spirit, especially
for naught, such was her challenge.
I etch the horizon precisely where neon should be,
pretending there are bridges and stars hanging
in thin city air.
I’ve imagined myself as a silhouette on rooftops
blending with balustrades and fire escapes, in shadow
descending quietly.
To find her alone on Belmont Avenue, under streetlight,
in gentle snowfall, in warm rain, wherever her life
turned inclement.
And time is like an arrow struck from the quiver
of a rosined bow, approaching its acme.
…ask any fool that she ever knew …
© Chagall ∞
On the roof
the city below
is quiet
Gray
the order of
the day
People still use clotheslines here
cursive swoops of nylon rope
wet haberdashery semaphore
Empty rivers on either side
the low-end of tugboat blasts
is lost here
Each one grabs
an arm
a leg
apiece
Spreads me like a kite
brings me to the edge
begins a count of three
A sail on the river begs a breeze
no longer grasps hold
kites below become smaller
. . . I be gone
It is certainly quieter here
save for the rush of wind
Chagall 2016
The breeze is welcome tonight,
blows gently from the southern tip
of the island.
The kitchen curtains
light and sheer, lift and fall,
lull and frail, alight and float
from this fire-escape.
A scouring sound, the street-cleaner’s truck
big brushes, soft cymbals, a slow waltz but jazz.
Someone sings the body fluorescent,
a silhouette there! hops between rooftops,
the lookout for errant low-flying dreams
flushes the pigeons from their coops
who turn to spirals of doves.
I am as young as this moment allows
but no less. I’ll have been here again.
And morning light blinds bright silver.
Chagall 2015
Alphabet City 