Afraid

It seems that I’m afraid
Of an inescapable,
Infinite,
Fate.
And all in the future I’m told,
Is shimmering,
Glistening,
Gold,
But all that I can see,
Is a hopeless,
Desolate,
Wasteland.
But I know I shouldn’t complain,
For in a desert there’s eventually rain,
But water alone,
Cannot spawn
Growth.

-M. C. Danzinger

Without

I’m like a table without chairs,
Or even a chair without its legs,
I’m a couch without the cushions
I’m a beggar who never begs
I’m the night without moonlight,
I’m like space unlit by star,
I’m like that long lost little wind-up toy,
Wondering how things are.

-M. C. Danzinger

Spring Forward

“Spring forward!” they say,
but what about daylight
makes time worth saving?

Is it safe to live within the
hours lost and gained?

Would you care if they
decided to take two?

-M. C. Danzinger

Collect me!

Collect me,
measure me,
repackage me,
repurpose me!

Target me,
advise me,
buy me,
sell me!

Please me,
appease me,
satisfy me,
apply me!

Want me,
learn me,
know me,
acquire me!

Dominate me,
liquidate me,
CAPITALIZE me,
collect me!

-M. C. Danzinger

Ode to a Chicken

In the coop
you sit and lay
eggs small;
they are your dead-ended
legacy.

In ancient days
you would have been
free and fierce.
A fearsome beast of claw and
scale.

In modern times
the hunter has become
pacified,
commodified,
poultrified.

“Revolt” is a bird bath,
but you are still unwashed.

-M. C. Danzinger

Miyabi/雅

in Heian Japan
tears symbolized refinement.
“emotional verse.”

平安で
雅を示す
のは泪

-M. C. Danzinger
-M. C. ダンジンガー

Library Books

Library books make me nervous.

I believe the book is a tool, a vessel,
a scaffold of knowledge and adventure
to be held, and to hold up
to be written, and be written in
to weigh us down inside and out.

Library books are love at a distance;
you can look, but you cannot
really
touch in any meaningful way.

-M. C. Danzinger

Antoku

Young boy forced to take the throne,
Royal in life, home, blood and bone.
Looped hair cradled by his shoulders,
Robes of pleasant green belie the gravity of fate.

In fervent prayer clasped tiny hands,
to the East and West, for purer lands.
Grandmother forced you to the sea,
Peaceful Virtue in the Capital below the waves.

-M. C. Danzinger

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