A pinball plunger is pulled
torque builds tension, drives a blue planet hurtling
Yet to achieve status quo
but already we are dying
What a sad lot
done but barely begun
Expansion wraps
central stars implode
planets light up
critical mass
the multiverse shifts
orbits combine
new suns enjoy
15 minutes of fame
We are domino
tip us watch the long ripple
beget life everywhere
a taper to kindle
We are seeds
oh, how testy we are
Chagall 2015/2018
The aroma of oil and salt,
a breeze cooler than the stagnant
air about me, fried potatoes
on ocean winds waving somewhere
on the planet, whitecaps hold foam
while moonbeams reign supreme
in the gravity, the order of things,
as all must be is surely.
© Chagall ∞
On Mercury
its day is
longer than
its year
It’s all
about spin
the path
your journey
Chagall 2016
I’ve reshaped the constellations
to reflect what I see
I have no interest in
how others see heaven
Makes it so easy
to now know the sky
Chagall 2015
They’re shouting last call
transports leave those left behind
wondering planets
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
There’s no one for me who quite matches up,
the moons have ceased to align for a while.
There’s no one who can catch me then keep up,
they wax when I wane, they rock when I roll.
I can guess the card almost every time,
didn’t you just pull that from up your sleeve?
Stone with me, share blankets under moonlight,
tell me the stars are not that far away.
Let’s get off the grid, shoot them all the bird,
witness each full moon on the calendar.
Instead I’m surrounded by non dreamers,
those who are deluded by what is real.
Son-of-a-bitching-moronic-buzz-kills,
pissing on my clouds, stinking up heaven.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Midnight, sparkled frost.
A full moon presides o’er fields,
where I’ll never lie.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Alphabet City 