I promise to be good no more, my ulterior motive, my alter-ego,
boundless, shaken loose as altar palsy,
would rock the Casbah on the organ in the apse.
Starry-eyed?
I’d sleep one-eye open, if I were you.
Too many ellipses, methinks,
too many bombardiers, outweigh the troubadours;
I’ve reckoned it’s important
to protect the flank without disturbing the garden?
Eat, drink, be merry, with others as well as your own.
do not harm each other, or be concerned with things;
love the earth.
There’s full moons tonight all over the worlds,
everywhere lovers heave sighs, look up,
to where you are, just far away,
in the light from old stars, open-lipped and breathless.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Alphabet City 