some poems
practically write themselves,
others don’t arrive for days
after
the moments from which
they were inspired:
sometimes an image
sometimes a rhyme
sometimes nonsense
and
sometimes a lie
it’s all
part of the facade
of a creative person
and
her
paint by number
dreams—-
in this colorful world,
she wants to
shake awake,
to feed the masses
on her words.
I remember
my heart opened wide
the glint we shared in our eyes
fresh from union
awakened to new love
in that second
I realized I loved you
but
I didn’t know how to hold on
when you let go
I want to cry out to the divine
why did our love wither on the vine
and all I know
is that you had no logic
left to appeal to reason
when you departed this world
I confess. I recently went on a “My So-Called Life” episode watching binge. When I look back, it’s as though the character Angela Chase taught me everything there was to know about being a teenage girl.
Later, I dreamed Jared Leto kissed me. Not the present day Jared Leto, mind you, but as he appeared in “My So-Called Life.” In my dream, I divulged to him a secret that usually makes or breaks my relationships. He shrugged, smiled wide, and said, “Everybody has something.” His blue eyes shone brilliantly, and the feeling of acceptance I awoke with was palpable.
I have no idea what this dream means, nor what my psyche was trying to tell me. It was just a beautiful experience.
I wonder
how I survived
this rainiest year on record
without you
I felt like those kisses and heartbreak
all happened
to someone else,
and they did:
it’s been more than
seven years,
cell by cell,
I’ve become
a whole new person
Which is good
because
losing you
nearly destroyed me
Like the bluebird
that insists
Love Brings Miracles,
I believe
in us.
As you plan for 2012, keep this in mind: Simplifying is letting go of all the junk, both internal and external, so that we can move on towards what truly matters to us. Leave all the junk of 2011 in 2011. Let 2012 be a clean slate for you. Don’t let your past steal your future. Move on. -Danny
I heard myself yelling “no”
as a bullet meant for an assassin’s heart
struck a suicidal man
Your bride knelt at your side
removed the silver-plated cake knife
from your hand
and cried
I argued that you didn’t have
to die
that something could be done
and what if that had been you, sir?
When anger had abated, replaced by sorrow
I found myself wishing out loud
to hold your other hand
and I was stunned when she said “Yes, yes she can.”
I remember the clamminess
of your delicate, dexterous fingers in my own
Clutching
as you went into shock
chattering the word “cold’
your uncle’s suit jacket draped across your chest and
the moment you composed your face for the very last time
“with eyes closed and a heart wide open”
Your bride, inconsolable at your side
and I a strumpet, the other woman
dry eyed and calm, solemnly bearing witness to your death
and to the Ruse
that your younger brother is actually you
that you were the doppelganger
out to steal his identity all along
“There could only ever be one XXXX XXXXX!”
I said defiantly
as they fit a straight jacket
over my head
as she blinked, did a double take, and believed him, as would the World
They cremated your body
in a pig roaster
the acrid smoke
disgusting in the afternoon air
as they played your
spiritual masterpiece over the loud speakers:
the chromatic notes building a tower in the sky
to offer up your soul.
I wear a l’chaim near my heart
to remember to live my life fully each day
and
I listen to your music
to never forget
the soft timbre of your voice,
to listen for you in my dreams…
Studious, you sit in my coffee shop
in the corner
wearing a sexy-in-a-little-bo-peep-way ruffled sweater
I ignore you as I make hand crafted drinks
and Justin Bieber sings Christmas tunes (before Thanksgiving)
“I don’t want a girlfriend”
I tell myself
but I notice you writing furiously with your pink Parker pen,
I wonder what you could be writing.
I know you have neat, rounded script
from when you gave me your number
I’ll never call it
because you seemed serious
and I don’t want to lose you
as a customer
You don’t know how beautiful you are
or how every day can be a gift
slow down
Listen
I wish I could run my fingers through your baby-fine, chestnut hair
one last time
Or feel your pulse
strong and reverent, beating against mine
once again
I want to reach out to you
in your dreams
but I don’t want you to come here too soon…
If only you knew
the love you have ahead of you
will be
stronger than
what I left behind
