Tag Archives: Age

Buffalo

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By Dana Janine Diamond c1993

What did I know of poetry?
White snow and dreams
empty trees below my window
sledding and screaming in the fresh, cold air
When summer came at last,
we played in the tall, blonde weeds
next to the creek
all the houses were built on swampland
we had lovely duck ponds in the yard

In the years before we wanted fences
they sat out back
in their lawn chairs on the edge
of the yard, sunning themselves
my grandmother spoke only Yiddish
her grandmother understood only Greek
they talked for hours and hours
days without purpose
other than just to be

Jazz in underground clubs
and hippies from Chicago
playing folk guitar
in my polished blue living room
I waited in the wings
while Steve sang
“City of New Orleans”
my brother was alongside him
under the spotlight
I was nine
and that’s what I knew

Manicured suburbia
with movies and Niagara Falls
donuts with powder on top
and shoplifting in shopping malls
Buffalo.
home of the spicy Buffalo wings
we traveled in packs
venturing into basements,
and haunted houses
surreptitiously playing
Spin the Bottle
with rum and coke
I don’t ever remember
liking the boys I kissed

Every summer I drove
to Fantasy Island
with my Dad
to hear Glen Campbell
sing
and see the showgirls
lift their legs
“The Sterile Honeycomb”
he wrote.
Arthur, my brother’s friend. Before
he successfully attempted suicide.
So, I knew that poets died
and that made sense to me

I read everything he wrote
and then I started writing
at fifteen, just when my brother stopped.
he moved back home from California
I thought I could not live here
because my brother left
I thought my spot was in the wings,
waiting for songwriters
to sing
I thought I could not write poetry
and survive
I knew that good poets died
and became better ones.
I write stronger now
for having died

Here, alive in the West
Or there, at that time
Snowdrifts or Western sea line
the smell and feel of summer grass
is the same
resting quietly, close to the ground
the poet is reclaimed.

COPYRIGHT 2017 Dana Janine Diamond ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. See Copyright Notice pertaining to thejewishpoetess.wordpress.com

Decanting Tu B’Av

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Decanting Tu B’Av

by Dana Janine Diamond

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I’d like to think of Tu B’Av

as a sacred place,

that space

in the fields

where grapes are stomped

into becoming

the song I pour

down your throat

and mine

our garments intertwined

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so that no one is seen

as less

and everyone

becomes…

more

lovely in the light

for our hope is full

as the gleaming moon.

Our beauty cannot be stolen                                      images

nor given,

I hope you look deeply for us

in the fields

we are waving

our arms

snapping our fingers

dancing to the ageless rhythm

with our

souls outstretched

to God,

for our lovers

on this earth

hovering near the vineyards

will wrap themselves

around us

the ocean rocking,

swirling side to side                                                         imgres

in the bejeweled glass

waiting to be

lifted

held

tasted

savored

embraced.

Decanting

leaves age and sediment behind

as the sweet scents arise

we choose

to breathe.

At last,

at last

to see

our quiet longing

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COPYRIGHT 2013 Dana Janine Diamond ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. See Copyright Notice pertaining to thejewishpoetess.wordpress.com