Those who love love-lost
slowly drown glub-glub
mouth-to-mouth
kisses can
resuscitate
Clear!
© Chagall 2014
Tag Archive: poetry
I stare out the window
at others staring wonder
where everyone has gone
The world awaits
children who run under her tapping foot
careful to time
the rise – now quickly . . . before the fall
If I wait too long
till closing time I get to rush
the darkened aisles just a step
ahead of failing lights
And for what,
a cartful of constellations?
© Chagall 2014
The rain brings scents so wash-away
They defy time, carry to and fro
Small doses of memory, others and ours
I inhale drops sharply, penetrate high and deep
To a point over my head from where
I triangulate my whereabouts, abandon my wits
Rabid in the downpour
Baptized a pseudonym handpicked to avoid
Final reckon, I despise the gavel’s sound
On my inner ear, fine cilia at risk
Befallen to the sound shock of the block
The inevitable shouts, nothing I know can stop that flow
A cloud rappeler, I dangle my solitude
A soliloquy, a carbon piñata too often tethered than not
Wound taut on thin wire, release me
Let me spin
© Chagall 2014
On the underside of love
one heart aches
for a second chance
concedes instead
to halve
© Chagall 2014
White noise
not a little but
a lot of static
a yard of broken glass, where old hearts
lie as bases for games
we play and we slide
into home where we sleep
unaware that we sleep, in any sense
of the word we vow
to uphold the word
and the world is no better for having spun
its yarns
strangle
but keep us warm where there’s need
to sleep with one, two, three eyes
open, dear one
dearest one, the purest
of pure form aspire
to one day inspire, be
all of the days
we settle for less
no more
© Chagall 2014
Hey! You missed a spot.
No, not on the floor,
in your life, I mean.
See? You can see it from here.
© Chagall 2014
Brassica, sad and lonely:
melancholy-flower.
© Chagall 2014
I’ve a universe abloom in the cellar
early expansion, just seconds old
can fit in my hand, both hands now,
but man, let me tell you, it’s hot!
The roaches appear to fear the neutrinos,
finally they’ve met their match,
they scatter and hide, no laughing dark matter
as a dense and fog-like wannabe light
obscures the path to the boiler
In minutes the ceiling buckles then pops
to reveal through the gape of its tear
the Cubans who live in apartment 1C
backed to the wall, frenzied signing the cross
as their floor dissolves and withers away
Then we double and treble and do it again
and again, maybe once-twice more
Until Alphabet City hovers and throbs
in pulsating light, still too bright,
it buzzes new colors, these youngest days
wet and lush, teeming with life,
implicate order and hope
And that’s where it stops, thank God (I guess)
’cause we’ve all got our trains to catch
© Chagall 2014
All of creation falls
blurs on rainy panes
opaque and eternal
these gray days
little beads
at a crawl
descend
slowly
drip
by
drop
© Chagall 2014
Fervor helps
to make it so.
The last prayer then
is easy.
They let you down
so easy.
© Chagall 2014
Alphabet City 