She loved Frost but was less equivocal about the end,
choosing water over fire and ice.
© Chagall 2017
Tag Archive: youth
The balloon from her last birthday
I’d left to bob on the ceiling,
over the years had withered and died,
and now resembles a pink snail on
a white-ribbon leash, there
in the corner behind the bookcase.
© Chagall 2017
The last silver streamer alights,
confetti and ticker tape abandon flight,
balloons fall from celebration
failing to be held aloft.
Remember when we were? Each awakening brought
a new day with new sun in which we bathed defiant,
we dared it to blind us, we countered with our own
heat, radiance, impulse to grow, and then to burn away.
Soft brooms whisk the memory; the clink of glasses raised
to toast is still there, not quite yet imperceptible.
© Chagall 2017
I had such a clear falsetto once,
soared the musical scale high above
any notes that mere mortals dared
to defy. I’ve lost it since the
childhood innocence is gone, left
alone, this humble baritone, no longer
a tenured tenor, soon to hit rock bottom,
a baseless bass who dreams of being in love
fully soprano.
© Chagall 2016 – oops! – 2017
Another year and the war would end
but on the day my friend Johnny died
the triangle of his flag hung looking
over the city from his mom’s window.
The summer we were ten he stands in a sprinkler,
in his boxers (not really a swimsuit) with
the biggest grin because it’s vacation and
life is good and the ice man is coming and
we’ve got a dollar to share.
© Chagall 2106
Dear Sara – I was deeply saddened today to realize it will take less time to attain your parents’ age than has transpired since we first met. Desperately breathing irregularly. Love, Carlos
© Chagall 2016
The curtain is parted as she’d left it,
worlds continue passing by.
© Chagall 2016
And Julia says hi –
a summer of sun soaked
peppermint RayBan razzmatazz
– tell her hello for me too.
© Chagall 2016
Small letters alight on her lashes, tiny poetry about her eyes
Kisses of ancient rhythm, a pucker for a flame stoked
Each blink the turn of a page reveals whole worlds
Every breath has meaning, those lighter than air defy gravity
Limericks line her brow when she laughs
When she sighs I trace my lips along the long volta of her neckline
Where her sonnets turn around
Down her arms flow three-letter words, we are kids again
Awash in primary colors, hands waving wildly at tickles
Dancing about in a spray, we drink water from a hose
There are symbols dangling from her ears that I do not recognize
Baubles of mystery; I linger there eschewing translation.
© Chagall 2016
I am exhilarated by early morning and
the promise of timelessness
to experience life’s wonder.
Till evening song
when hours hang heavily and
I shift to the eternity of sky for bearing.
© Chagall 2016
Alphabet City 