Tag Archive: Romance


Lonesome Whistle Perfume

The sound of planets receding,
the doppler of large trucks
flying by on endless road,
the cosmic hum of rubber
rubbed hot-asphalt on this summer night
beneath shot-stars that are
suns by day, while we lovers by night
with our tops down rejoice
in the blue-static
of AM radio

© Chagall ∞

Wa-wa-watusi

You keep seeing me from the outside in
I think that’s good
she said

Up to a point I’m guessing
then it demands
deeper dives

A roil – yes there must be
one of those – a tussle
some physical fabrication

Two bodies meshed – or is it fused?

I think it’s just sliding
gliding really

Chagall 2016

Alee

Down from Stuyvesant Town
a little bit up from the Boys Club

Where the bus lets you off
at Eleventh & A

About thirty feet above ground
my soul hangs suspended

I hover there to watch life pass
sweetly through a window frameless

A point of view timeless
as before is coincident now

Old city brick woven
in fire escapes

We’re once young stealing kisses
miles away at the southern tip

There the island goes dark
where two rivers meet

Alone at the point
amid too many crosswinds

Lean flat
lie back into the wall

Chagall 2015

Kissing While Snow Amasses

The night air is extraordinarily
cold, rarefied – prompts me to consider
if I had considered the language

It is snowing
then I thought simply

It snows
or simpler

Snowing
and still

just
Snow

sparkling
dry falling
night squadrons
wee icy crystals
cascade down her lashes
freeze cheeks
numb kisses
her lips
quickly

we are the first
to warm ankle-deep in
Snowfall

Chagall 2015

So There!

Hey, don’t look at me
if you don’t know how
to use the ingredient

My taste tests
are pretty fine

Chagall 2015

A Girl And The Balloon

She said it’s just a snowdrop anemone
a phantasm that I use to transform
materialize in a split-second wink of an eye
I steal kisses, beware!
I am peppermint patty in a fun-house light
pernicious and witty and bright and I pity
any lassie who isn’t me tonight
I am ten years old
again in a tent that I pitched at my uncle’s
one summer night incredibly long ago
ice and flame, the stars
beckoned throughout the night
I needed to see the stars all night
so I left the mesh-flap open
to let in light from so far long away ago
on warm local winds that carried the voice of cicadas
I haven’t slept since in awe of the world
once I’d slept on the ground in the beautiful light of stars
I now allow myself to float airily up
without inhibition nor gravity
intercedes
hoping
our
fall
is
a
small
one

Chagall 2015

A Four-Fingered Gypsy Riff

Oh that guitar, she’s been so well treated
warmed way too long to be cold, rosewood and maple
with only the minimum pressure upon the neck
to exert, she said my phrasing was abrasive
like a french r, which I took to be a compliment
of very high order, considering her pedigree
and her particular brand of smokes

Chagall 2015

Iconic Affair

chagall-backdrop4.jpg

My avatar would like
to make love to your avatar,
spread tiny pixels about,
and afterwards light up
a GIF.

© Chagall 2015

Totally Infatuated

Razor sharp
my face like a baby’s ass
freshly shaven
neat my collar’s
open she licks
a long neck
to minty lips
sweats like tonic
in a mouth of ice

she breathes in steam
like a new age coming

lustful urbana
does floor routines
atop a medieval mattress

hold sway there my Dulcinea!

I am flattered by your ardor
evidenced by subtle protrusions
of your body’s softer and finer tissue

you Bonnie and Juliet you

© Carlos Chagall, 2013

Sonnet For Dying Sonnets

Running away, we outrace the comets,
then rest on our backs, at the southern pole;
stars, concentric orbits, clarions toll:
Life on this planet, as good as it gets.

My love for you hangs in mist, crystalline,
cascades in tickling ripples down your face,
rinses from inside out, the dust, this place.
There is no heaven, nor hell, this serene.

There is no place at all, there’s no bridge back.
I reel, mad dance, awestruck, struck dead, anew,
the last call. We didn’t make it did we?
“No my love, we both died in the attack.”

Cold wild winds blow hard in vain to renew
the calm before the storm, eternally.

© Carlos Chagall, 2013

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