last_passenger's Xanga

Thursday, June 05, 2008

Thu, 05 Jun 2008 17:54:36 GMT

on such a morning as this, a mist of wind
cools all of my senses, and i can see it carrying
away the burdens of a leaf. i wonder why
everything follows the wake of a sun-rise
moon-light pattern, why Nature's seasons
always circle back around.Could it be that
everything is letting go, forever dying to be born
in new awakening

Love Danielle

Monday, June 02, 2008

Mon, 02 Jun 2008 14:11:39 GMT

when the disappointments of an evening won't disappear, i start to imagine a slightly different scene, one where my more appealing self comes up to you for once. you are still handsome and tall and barely aged at all. I am a little taller, more attractive, worldly, yet innocent enough for you to notice, and perfect at conversation. I'd like to think we talked to flirt, and intrigued eachother enough to pretend we thought the same way, and had some things in common. When you begin to play, in the moment of holding your guitar and opening your mouth, you thought of me, and hoped that I would understand what you were singing between verses. In the end, my leaving would not be so abrupt or silly. I stay for a while, and you smile at me sometimes. I wouldn't play with the rings on my fingers, fold hair over then behind my ear, or look down as you play those songs that make me feel enough that i could love you.

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Wed, 21 May 2008 01:37:43 GMT

we are all islands
but we are all the same on this earth
how can it be?
because i am not shaped
like other islands
across my water
the others seem so different than me
he said, if we swallow the water
between us
we are the same land.

with always growing love,
danielle

Thursday, May 01, 2008

Thu, 01 May 2008 02:59:37 GMT

In far-away imaginings
close to the center
of newly formed dreams
I can see the skyscape of all oceans,
where starlight is a raindrop
that fell asleep in clouds
and listened to
the continuous waves resounding

and with love,
danielle<3

Friday, April 25, 2008

Fri, 25 Apr 2008 14:15:39 GMT

theres a spilling of a fountain on the lawns turning green
and the widde eyed petals hold bees in the sun
dressing everything over in heavy wakefullness
the porch bench used to whistle to winds in summer trees
cradled our skin. i think of you again , i wonder
is your mind a handle of escape or cabin still.

love for ever Danielle

Saturday, March 08, 2008

Sat, 08 Mar 2008 19:38:28 GMT

I see the same tree so I think it's more alive.
still standing there, despite the taking away
and putting back on of seasons; remaining as beautifully
close to the ground and sky as it was before.

Danielle<3

Tuesday, March 04, 2008

Tue, 04 Mar 2008 03:50:53 GMT

i exhausted myself for the day. as the sun layed down and slept across the sky, i sighed into my sleeve and pushed some hair behind my ear. i didn't want to think, so i waited for morning to wonder why everyone is either lost or paranoid...i thought about thought. maybe jesus left us for more reasons than we know.

Saturday, February 23, 2008

Sat, 23 Feb 2008 15:44:28 GMT

My dreamer's escape is not to escape reality,
it is to enter a reality more real than waking.
The color might be dull, and walking might be weighty;
but somehow its visions carry me through the day
and bring me to lay my head back down at night.
In inner thoughts I am more and less of who I am.
I actually sat on a park bench,
got up to help a woman pick up feathers from a bird.
In my life, I don't want to escape from any of this.

With love, Danielle

Friday, February 01, 2008

Fri, 01 Feb 2008 02:06:29 GMT

We don't remember as much tomorrow,
as in these few moments, stretched like garden stones.
An orchid bends with her mouth full of snow,
and the birds fly south before it has fallen.
Right now, our bed is a clear sky, and when I feel you,
my fingers are all birds set free.
Under another winter, they will not be as warm.

So much love, Danielle

Monday, January 28, 2008

Mon, 28 Jan 2008 21:36:26 GMT

I'll have a corner office. I think I'd like to think there, about a variety of things, and some things in particular. I'll read a few headlines from a day-late newspaper (it seems so long ago already.) Or maybe I'll over hear something someone heard from someone else. And a girl in a long skirt, in the office a few steps away, will keep these words, and turn them into truth without listening. I'll think about how we all have a space, how we all have thoughts we turn into truths; and sometimes we shout, we shout to the entire corporation that we have all the answers, and people are stunned! Afterall, they never see us, we're always in our corner office just thinking, keeping our eyes on our walls, and maybe stepping out for a coffee break, where we utter a few words to someone we forget the next day, and introduce ourselves again. On another day I'll think about relationships...about how a boy is attracted to a girl, usually thats all he can do about that. Maybe he'll entertain inappropriate thoughts, convince her to have sex with him, or maybe they'll pretend they know how to love eachother--and she'll tell everyone she misses him if he leaves for the day. I'll think about how being attracted to someone is too natural, and that love cannot be as effortless. If I don't have much to do, maybe I'll think we are just as good as animals. We are instinctual and nothing much more. But we don't keep the jungles or the deserts as our space, we like to live until we die, in our little corner office for a while. On other days, that don't come around too much, I'll think about a sunrise, a bright orange moon I've seen before, and how that's all I can ever know for sure.