May 7-13, 2001: Danielle D. Billington and Yonatan Zukowsky

week of May 7-13, 2001

Danielle D Billington and Yonatan Zukowsky

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Danielle D Billington
Dalloway@aol.com

Bio (auto)

Minneapolis poet, musician and actor I participate in local experimental theater, cabarets, and fringe festival events I play guitar, bass and drums behind local poets as well as to my own work I have been published in Karawane magazine, and college journals.

The following work is Copyright © 2001, and owned by Danielle D Billington and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.

Thoughts Like Cold

thoughts like cold
regard
boughs and leaves of trees in light
soul-less whispers in wind
wind bares all misery
she dreams a little
and the light lies across her
and the wind grazes her
morning coffee
she wakes
she feels like the dark
and falling snow scattered
(or a chilly autumn night) ?

(wears a crown like a king or queen
remembers emotion through Dreams
and what is destined, what measure
for her soul
ice laden branches sink below
bent not broken at all
she caresses the bark, praying
for more)

she lies back down
and the blanket grazes her
the dark touches her
and the cold seeps in

thoughts like cold
Regard
boughs and leaves of trees in light
soul-less whispers in wind
wind bares all misery
she dreams a little
goodnight.

Chaos

triangle black ear
essential visions
would stare
like whispers
sleeping underneath
dresses-
triangle black ear
slipping through fingertips
lids slide up and down
lick lips
whiskers twitch
black cat’s baby paws
stretch to touch
my arm
graciously.

Solid

you
are not a solid
you
are liquid
sliding through
fingertips
changing shape
according to
need
changing shape
to slip away
you
are not a solid
will not hold shape
will not stay in place
you
are liquid
to be swallowed
and retained
planet in elliptical orbit



Yonatan Zukowsky
zuks@matav.net.il

Bio (auto)

I am a history teacher in an American High School Program in Pardess Hanna, Israel Writing has been one of my hobbies most of my life My poem “Good Morning, Egypt!” appeared in the February/March 2001 issue of Midstream Magazine.

The following work is Copyright © 2001, and owned by Yonatan Zukowsky and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.

From a Worm

Heavenly Father, Father to all creeping insects Thank You for this meal of man For this succulence we say Grace one hundred times
And crawl to and fro at Your bidding Let all poor worms come and eat!
It is our holiday of freedom!
We shall dine on the Paschal Man!

O’ Sea That Is!

O’ sea that is!
Sing a song wild in love,
Fresh as the dancing breeze Lead my soul to song and love,
Harden my will so I may succeed Carve you a man who courageously demands
Yet is wholly resolved to give
Be my guide, O’ sea that is,
Stiffen this willow wrapped in a cloud Anoint me with your salty wave,
Teach me to cast off defeatist fear
And smile the smile of heroes.

To a Smoker
What big teeth stain marks you have, neighbor!
With your breath, let not out a roar Wouldn’t you rather chew on a carrot,
Or eat an apple to the core?

But, no You must ram your cancerous smoke down my throat
And ruin my newly bought suit When you pollute yourself, you pollute me, friend Exchange your cigarette for a fruit
You, who live on borrowed time and borrowed cigarettes —
What’s that you say?
You will continue to puff even against my will?
You say you smoke for peace-that your puffs are the puffs of
freedom
Well, hear this, lad: Though you do not smoke to irritate
Those billowing rings are indeed an irritant Those so-called puffs for peace rape my air, choke my nostrils
And declare war on my very lungs
As to your claim that I tamper with your right to smoke,
Puff on this, creep: 
Your selfish will is bringing about
The premature reading of my will.