Everyone around stares
at plastic-silicon
while we gaze now instead –
we pour ourselves – into the timelessness
of sunlight on our foreheads
and upon each open palm
and parted lip
© Chagall 2014
Tag Archive: sound
Those who love love-lost
slowly drown glub-glub
mouth-to-mouth
kisses can
resuscitate
Clear!
© Chagall 2014
Sky like a luau skirt
against starched duck-white
of rough linen clouds
© Chagall 2014
Someone sat
an old hippie lamp
To rotate
on the fire escape
Blurred sea horses
overtook Avenue B
All
a-glitter
On a cold
pastel noir
I still thank you
for the blankets
And for the lamp . . .
© Chagall 2013
packed knapsack
an artist’s knack
crayon on paper
acrylic lyricist
propelled rappeler
without rope
a bell tower
tall lean
prickly paper cuts
lemon burns
lapped turp
lipped tarp
curled carp
high on
Bunsen fuel
billed serpents
with furry burls
really mammals
mambo trampoline
politely vamp
with ass held high
and polished sway
a catapult
puffs a cloud
of talc
poof!
cutlery clatters
on linoleum
rhythmically
limerick
oddly lilt
trowel pickles
by limestone
at the edge
where patron saints
trumpet their forte
clarion peals
fortnightly
frolic
licorice
spears
parsley petals
picayune petty
pricks
their cucumbers
on plaques
Kewpie dolls
slick and porcelain
sling kisses
slap sickly
spill the classic
coke slice
picnic cakes
kick myself
trickle and tickle
the keys
skip lightly
phantasmic
categorically
dismissed
dismantled
and bewildered
© Chagall 2013
C”mon bourbon, make me a writer, a rich man;
I grab my castanets, throw my hands overhead, my head’s thrown back, and I sing!
yibba-dibba-dibba
dibba-dibba-dibba-dibba-dee
Huxley – or somebody (too bour’boned to look it up) – under nitrous oxide:
higamous, hogamous,
woman’s monogamous,
hogamous, higamous,
man’s polygamous.
or some sort of carp, or crap, like that.
oh-oh! I’m driffin’ – catch my drif’?
have fun with words! I’m ticklin’ “pudding” and “cockswain” as we speak.
take ’em to the zoo, two by two,
size places, pack a lunch,
freeze your soda the night before, if you want to.
I need a marlboro light so bad right now!
You gotta know that I don’t even smoke!
Where did all these fucking exclamation points come from?!
© Chicheme, 2013
Alphabet City 