Wednesday

Wednesdays are hard for some people

but not me. i think Wednesdays are good

for me and there should always be something

to break up the week a bit. September 11th

was a Tuesday and i once broke a man's heart

on a Sunday. Wednesday is good.

Thursday is almost-weekend but not weekend enough.

give me mid-week sunbeams dancing over my floor

or even the consistency of third-day rain when it's been too long

without. i like Wednesday,

it's some kind of momentum into

things to come and i don't have

to look back anymore. my

grandmother passed on a groggy Saturday morning

so as much as i enjoy sleeping late

and bacon breakfasts with eggs

i don't think i'll ever go for those, really.

i'll have Wednesday please.

it hasn't betrayed me so far in this life.

04.11.2012

tip-toeing

i love words

and having words and

knowing how to use them

but i do not love

how they can shatter

worlds and bring tears

from nothing

it's easy to speak

it's not easy to think

before speaking

that song once found beautiful

now ruins you

words with new meanings now

profound whispers tip-toeing

across land mine hearts

09.2012

gold and green

has the sparkle too soon

gone out of your eyes? just

find that western sky when you can,

the glint of gold and green,

the leaves can only shine back

and they'll put you right,

nature always follows through

and it'll put you right.

09.2012

[poetry soon.]

forgive me, friends.

life's caught up to me recently, but there have been triumphs mixed in with the struggles, so it's all going to be OK. work is taking its toll but i am grateful to have a job. i'm working on a community production of a musical, which demands much of my nightly time but brings me joy, for theatre is a beautiful, under-appreciated art. and my brother got married this weekend, so my heart is still overflowing with love and happiness from that.

i will return to you, i promise. in the meantime, keep writing, and i hope you'll stick with me, too.

peace and love,
Dana xo

wildfire

i am a fissured pawn

but have no control

as every shrewd square becomes occupied

by an opposing fate or fraud.

each path leads to a cracked rear view

content with lovely nothingness.

there is nothing left for me here,

even when all masks have been lowered.

and where would resolve lie?

a symphony will digress only if commanded to do so.

yet it takes no composer to ensnare me on a whim,

to crescendo the scattered notes,

to put an end to it all with a double line

and not another glance back.

hard prayers hold no future for soft sin,

but at such times as these

at least a memorial is expected.

my head is barely above water,

there's no telling what's below.

i hold on to the one thing

keeping me from drowning,

my buoy in troubled waters,

but sometimes even that

doesn't seem like enough.

no more tears here, the sign says.

so i move over five inches and cry there instead.

i'm running fast as wildfire through my own mind games

but it doesn't matter.

no one cares enough to chase me.

still it seems the walls of morality

are closing in, but strategizing,

and i'm going back to prison.

i'd rather run from the law

than abandon my dreams.

run like wildfire.

06.2005

so long, January

don't flatter yourself, January.

you promise a new year,

new beginnings

but it's more of the same old shit.

turmoil in the static.

you're not fulfilling my needs

and you know how i thrive on

immediate satisfaction.

so go fuck yourself, January,

or else find me a way to deal with

the sudden burst of nothingness you've handed me.

for you found me at a difficult time,

but for once it's not the fault of

a man or

a friend-in-passing or

some other convenient betrayal.

it's only me,

my fault,

all my doing

but it's been going on like this

since September,

so you can see how i was anticipating you

to somehow rescue me from this

ready-to-expire horror story

i'm creating.

i'm sad to say

you couldn't offer me anything more

than high hopes abandoned on window sills

by one who was too afraid to jump

for keeps.

the January thrill of snow and speed

were lures into a game called life

that i'm not sure i'm ready to be a part of yet,

so forgive me if i'm not

ecstatic

about my current situation.

for we both know i've never been the type

to be tied down

to anything,

least of all

what's expected of me.

my alter ago,

the side of me no one sees,

is way ahead of its time

with things you could never provide for me,

January.

you toyed with me and now

i'm over it

and i'm over you

and the thirty-one days of

shit

you offered,

so you'll again forgive me

for not mincing my words.

i'll move on to the next

who promises some kind of salute to love

and perhaps i'll find something

whole

or something that will make me feel

whole.

so long, January,

you mother fucker.

next year

you'd better bring it.

02.2010

muddy

i don't belong here and i am well-aware

of that but still you force it

down a swollen throat like

knives i can't hope to abate,

fighting the death of me. i don't want your pity

but i do want a chance in your muddy eyes

to be more than obligatory waste.

07.2011