Tag Archive: wordplay


in a world of proctologists
all is ass-backwards

go analyze that

Chagall 2020

Cradle to Grave (A Mantra)

No me
Now me
Know me
Known me
Unknown me

No me…

Chagall 2019

B Sharp

My best friend borrowed a guitar, I told her to return it
with a full tank of gas. She just shrugged and said Huh?

© Chagall ∞

Calliope, pentateuch, kombu bay-bay
Chukka boot a Buddha yay!

© Chagall ∞

Prague Noses, My Toes Is

Absent hypothetical lichens
perhaps have Tourettes … unlikely.

© Chagall ∞


We would meet up and lose our minds together.
You could say we had a cata-platonic relationship.

© Chagall ∞


My enjambement is intended to make
make you stutter, step a-
round stuff, leap …
the landing.

© Chagall ∞

To A Tee, Baby!

I have certainly been less legato of late,
still I’m not quite yet pizzicato.

© Chagall 2017

Dearest Sara


Felt not right, so I left.

© Chagall 2017

Your Beautiful Year

Snow, an extended heaven-sent sigh
expresses its passion as a function
of the angle of its fall; precipitation
begat and chilled by the wind, a fluttery
jitterbug afoot overhead. My scarf wraps
twice to warm me, beguiled amid words that
form between flakes, they speak you know –
to warn me there just ahead is a hand
reaches out to embrace but the space between,
the chasm divide is too great, still we blow,
still we fall to the ground, a powder, a mist
slowly wisps away in time, nestled deep in the throes,
in our throwaway wraparound world we propel ourselves
deeper each time we fall, backwards off-stage I trust
you’ll catch me never let me fall,
I would break along dotted lines …
snow from afar
each little star
is snow.

© Chagall 2017

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