Tag Archive: separation


At times, I miss the living
as much as those who've passed

cc: Chagall 2022

…If I Want To

the balloon from your party
still holds its helium
long after

it bobs there yet
in the ceiling

its long rainbow tassel
a curlicue of color

in time it will slide down the wall
without promise of rising 

all the best wishes of the day
flattened and peeling


cc: Chagall 2021

The Rush of Velvet Water

I swear I’ll be there for you downstream
where the rocks are smoothed by time.

© Chagall 2017

Dearest Eve

Near a century ago, cousins
from the old country had written
to her, my grandmother, to tell her of
new life, love, old life, and death,
she’d missed, the chronology of
the beautifully handwritten cursive
on paper unlike any I’ve ever seen
in size and touch, with a scent of
many years contained there in the folds and
the unfolding of many reads, here and there
a letter blurred, the errant pen of
the author or a teardrop.

© Chagall 2016


Where do all
the tumbleweeds go
after they’ve blown away?

Where do all
the scorpions hide
during the rain storm?

Watch me now,
James Brown said,
watch me as I bust a move.

even back then
out there in the desert.

© Chagall 2016


I don’t even like pea pods
so stop saving them
for me.

© Chagall 2016



In emoticons we’ve driven
past LoLs and pensive ellipses
we’ve elided and skirted the truth
’cause brevity’s better, YKWIM?
I tap and bouquets appear amidst snowmen
who melt . . . batt’ry low . . . fade away

© Chagall 2015

For Millie

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And in the end
she said you’re my favorite people

You kept things bright when lights were low
you were always there to let me know

Those hard times shared by all
are not so hard at all

O’ what a life!

I remember dancing with you all
a slow dance, a quick step

Strange I never heard
the music change

O’ what a life
isn’t it a crazy life

When everything you know
is still here when you go

© Chagall 2014

Haiku For Span

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A dark corridor
the light divides in two banks
shade under the bridge

© Carlos Chagall, 2013

For Their Sake

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We tentatively tiptoe past
the quiet sleepers
who must choose
selfishness at the others behest
or at the expense of selflessness.

One or the other,
not both.

In a forest in mist
I release your hand,
a vain lapse; each moment
you’re gone
I bleed on shards
of Venus’ looking glass.

So quiet
they stir,
we feel
them stir
us to fall
on a bed
of spikerush.

Crawl along quietly now.

© Carlos Chagall, 2013

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