36 hours

March 17, 2014


Out in the night, drifting
Between hope and inexorability
clinging then abandoning
Fighting then surrendering

The French man approached
Eying me, then trying his luck
by ways of provocation.

The lesbian put her head on my shoulder
her hands ran down my body
“I’m wet” she said longingly

The musician came smiling happily
“I feel like I am 18” he said
And he danced some more

The friend looked at me squarely
“Lets go have a beer after we close” He said
with a warm smile

Between continents
Between letting go and hoping
Between illusions
I drift

The lassoed wild horse rears,
pulling with the energy of life itself
until he tears the rope that kept him
and blindly gallops away from the fear of pain
unaware of the barb wire at the end of the field

Now amidst the filth, broken glass and broken lives
the heart slightly drunk
between the brothels, the bars
the cheap eateries, cheap hotels
and the cheap thrills, I walk.
Dirty inbred cats look up in terror.
A man dressed as a woman
approaches with a heavy metal stick in his hand
angry, ready to hit,
his deep disembodied voice
uttering threats.


The kite’s rope broke.
It still flutters on the winds,
for a few last pure moments of lift
pretending all is good
but knowing full well
that gravity is about to take it down
and mercilessly smash it into the hard ground
and break its wooden skeleton
into useless little bits,

The sun now up, on the other side of the night
across from the bar
a very young bespectacled Syrian refugee
sells mussels all night long
to the drunks down on Mis Sokak
what a school of life for this child

As we stand there chatting stupidly
I watch a hunting cat’s deathly stare
as he is about to pounce on a dove
but, for a micro second, he is distracted
and decides to focus on another prey
the bird innocently, dumbly ambling around.
Unaware of the frailty of his life


There is a sea of men in black coats
A beer bottle crashes onto the stone cobbles,
splits, spreads its contents
Like a wounded body spilling blood.
No one cares.

Always pay attention
to the first words a man tells you.
In these words his truth is revealed

Always know
that your power of creation
will make you believe in anything
That this power
will make you overlook the truths
now given you

That power will make you yell out intrepidly
while you bask in this glow
of creative wonder and ecstasy
It will make you blind,
a burning torch
that sears your eyes shut
to what is right there to be seen.

Words of wisdom
so easy to write after the fact
But utterly useless at that very point
As all is now cold

To believe that the odds can be beaten,
That walls can be torn down.
How noble.

Oh yes, walls can be torn down,
wars can be fought
but the dust that is lifted in the struggle
blinds us, infiltrating everything
with poison

So, give up.
Accept the fate, recognize the gifts
Refuse to strike back and
Sleep a peaceful sleep
The Gods hold you dear



One Response to “36 hours”

  1. David Walker Says:

    Wow Danielle! This is beautiful but a bit frightening from the perspective of a friend on the other side of the world. with love, David

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