Plate 

On the plate before me

I am the world’s worst daughter

On the plate before me

Familial slaughter

On the plate before me

Lies the meatless mutter

Of dissidents and kings of discernible means

On the plate before me

No chicken just greens

On the plate before me

On the plate before me

 

On the plate before me

I am a late blooming human

On the plate before me

Quietly stewing

On the plate before me

Remains of another

A mindful blending of the cold hard truth

On the plate before me

The fibrous root

On the plate before me

On the plate before me

 

On the plate before me

I am as old as the planet

On the plate before me

A life’s been well done

On the plate before me

fragments of the road rage

Left begging until there is full sun

On the plate before me

The map in hand

On the plate before me

On the plate before me

 

Isn’t life grand

 

On the plate before me

On the plate before me

 

Nyc 9.9.22

 

She was once his father’s lover 

Rendered in a portrait unseen

Nights like these

Late and inky and full of spleen

She remembers the frothy beginnings

She remembers the barbed wire ends

How distance will grow like mold on a tree

When she is expected to

Remember free

when she has ejected false memory 

It arrives like a low-flying hawk in flight

How she took the boy to Coney on

The pirate ship ride

When he was smaller than she

Childlike, eternal, funneled and frightened 

the fearful mother

What each woman is certain

She will always know

No matter the clutter of sons and daughters

Or nothing to show

He was her son, her pirate in tow

Until trapped like rats on a towering cage

She bellowed her anger

The two of them caged

Take us down

Take us down

She shouted on high

A long silent ride from the island of mirth

That night in her rooms when they fell down to earth

Together forever for what is worth

Still determined he said

That grown up child of dissent

Back to the past’s reality berth

But I am still determined he said to see you at your convenience, 

Let me know when, she said

Let me know when it will work

 

he follows the path

in unquiet memory

what wins is the song

 Review of "A Birdhouse in Brooklyn" by Katherine Howey, UK

Danz’s novel presents a seldom-seen view of life for ordinary New Yorkers in the aftermath of 9/11. She exposes the repercussions of the event on lives affected by the relocation caused by toxic waste, the increased security measures implemented by the government and the emotional scarring of citizens traumatised by terrorism. Her lively yet nuanced portraits of characters struggling for self-realisation in the face of monolithic corporate culture and the social, economic and political tensions entrapping them are moving and memorable.

Lucy and Vincent; Shawn, Alex and Carlos; Jason and Carina strive to realise their artistic and musical talent, whilst negotiating their sexual and cultural orientations in this polyglot world. Manhattan and Brooklyn are being swamped in urban sterility. The bird houses represent both the embracing of and protest against the citification of wildlife as capitalism steams on smashing everything in its path. Ideologies clash and the voice of the ordinary citizen, of reason and alternative views of why these events occurred, seems like a cry in the desert. Shawn, dealing with abandonment, parenthood and the spectre of aids frenetically recycles junk to make works of art whilst Jason seeks to justify his own vision through his graffiti protest. Lucy transforms herself from journalistic wage slave to a writer of integrity, recording and staying true to her values by helping the vulnerable and illiterate, instead of returning to the falsity of the corporate world.

As a native New Yorker, Danz sites her story in the history of this great city and records its changes as it moves between eras. From the social housing projects of the 1950s with their immigrant populations, independent retail grocery stores and industrial power plants, the narrative changes to show the invasion of the city by giant condos in the early 2000’s and the proliferation of high-end stores driving out the natives with their appeal to tourism.

Her characters flourish like wild flowers between the cracks of corporate culture, living lives which are of far cry from the polished media images of global capitalism. Their struggles show that the “little people” are not little at all but heroic. The lives of these characters will stay with you.

AVAILABLE HERE: https://store.bookbaby.com/websearch/index.aspx...

they were there then not

garrulous kitchen table

nothing but boxes

nyc 5.20.22

 

 CLOSER IN THREE PART HARMONY

 

“She went off to eat it quickly. While she was eating the male went to the nest twice. Then they both returned to the nest, before making a trip to the top of the Ritz-Carton together. The female then returned to the nest. This all took about ten minutes. “

 

getting ever closer to nature

taking over 

begs the question of what will endure

under cover

 

standing always under the upstage 

when the limelight

hauls the daylight to what will come next

madness alone

 

bullet-proof eating of carrion enraged 

sailing wonder

to the tower of undefined wrecks

heartbeats undone

 

 

when she happened upon joe frank on the uptown local late one night

 

fractured route to undeserved blame

anti-personal bombs

like she’s seen all her life

in a sly way intended

like the wedding cake greets the knife

those bits of her that have been bloodied

what parts have been rendered

do they reek unhurried

salt among the scented 

on a late-night uptown train

she tested the field phone inside her

it held off guerillas

it fined the decriers

she asked for and got the nothing 

programmed like all the others

now seated across from her

apart from the others’ fur she was

wrapped in chancy sentimental

a list of liars in his back pocket

smelled of caution and secretive black light 

she saw him before the brain kicked in

his playbill rolled into undone

she, the spymaster was rigid with won

across the aisle of not fun

she on her own across the aisle 

recognizable mentor

his wife his savior his partner who knew

when she was sudden and leaden and undiscovered

basement-level of her own invention

imagine how hard it was to reign in

crazy to tell him he grew her

 

when the fresh eggs you are given

drop into your open palm

wash your hands it could kill you

or make you sing psalms

for the birth of anything animal or mineral

the thing humans crave are subliminal

 

she saw him on the uptown train

coming back from nothing remotely insane

what we have is embedded discovery

she shouts headless and crazed

no voice no sound

she recovers her ignorant gaze

he lowered his head undiscovered by her

playbill in hand

crazy to tell her he knew

 

3.15.22 nyc

 

What is fun early on

Makes no difference in the long run

How the story is unfolded

Creased and bent and undercover

Makes no difference in the long run

When the bastards scythe the clover

What was done early on

Pulling dragons from the sea scum

Knowing what she had to call it

Gardening stoned underwater

Trailing steps along the border

Footfall knows just where to run

What becomes then the norm

felines declawed of their protest

friendship up for chance renewal

what was fun in distant autumn

never fails to fail the test

cat or child the story’s done

What becomes then is the norm…

 

everything evolves

surfacing indifference

even compassion

Paris.Notre Dame

 

she sleeps unaware

like the owl stalking the mouse

mostly with respect

like a dull question

furrowed under the answer

it might still explode