Say you’ll stay
Don’t leave
Hello, you there?
© Chagall 2014
Tag Archive: poetry
To summers that never came
I raise my glass
To lowered eyes
To think that we’d revere
to pass in our lives
To waters that still hold sway
but not here
To sand that holds
yet the body line
To the bi-plane pulling banners
To footprints on the walk
since disappeared
© Chagall 2014
In hallowed field
on sandy dune ‘neath waxing moon
till morning sun
She sings of loss
such sorrow sweet, radiant heat
lustrous new day
Her golden throat
arpeggios lost in throes
scales as heaven would
Grace notes flourish
the melody forever free
soul embellished
There is no song
she cannot sing, she’s everything
if only love
© Chagall 2014
For every scarf you make,
learn a new stitch.
© Chagall 2014
There are those who play on emotions
with sharpened cleats
What say we eject them
from the game?
Or better yet,
why don’t they take their balls
and go home?
© Chagall 2014
So many things that we can break
start with the letter B:
bad, your back, his balls
the bank and bread
© Chagall 2014
Like the caricature assailants they shoot up at ranges
I’m riddled with a grouping of golden pellets
right around my heart, a corona of dead-eye shots
unready, aimless, yet fired upon, hollow-head bullets
from your trusty sights, in the short cross-hairs
you are my assassin, the sniper in the tower
watching me downwind, larger than life
in your scope, just a gentle pull, a rat-a-tat
and I’m blown away
© Chagall 2014
The words will need to be perfect this time;
they tell me now there’s no room for error
or remorse. Calibrate all dials steady
to measure the distance between two hearts,
tolerance at zero, infinity
or somewhere in between. Apply precise
tone, gesture, histrionics on request,
build a bridge, bridge the gap, gap the spark, spark
to light the pathway with strong intention
to meld into darkness at the far end
where there’s another in wait – so they say –
but you can never be certain these days.
© Chagall 2014
Dear, at times existence disorganizes itself
galaxies and all, not always for the better
often wreaks sane ways we cannot fathom
and a single feather is all that’s kept
aloft in the dying winds
Invisible weft on which we weave
new order
© Chagall 2014
Nights I stare up the chimney flue
to marvel at the square of stars
cordoned off there in my view
at the long end of the draw
of the red-brick tunnel
the cube of heaven
before me up there
always measures
two by two
by forever
© Chagall 2014
Alphabet City 