Visions

I had a vision, sitting in the student office of Murray Hall, a vision I doubt.

Today I decided to be an English major. I did not think this through. I don't think things through.

Sitting in the student office, the one that is filled on any given day with at least one of four students waiting for menial tasks, I envisioned. Something drew me to my old blog then and something clicked, like it usually does.

A new blog, something of a journal. I wanted to write, and still do, I wanted to write every day, why didn't I write? A poem or a ramble, maybe something important, but something every day. Maybe someone would even read it. So here we are, Thursday, and I doubt my vision, just like I usually do.

Am I really just some amorphous clay waiting to be pressed into anywhich mould? I'm not sure anymore, I seem to enjoy breaking moulds far more.

Tell me sage, do I push on? Maybe you're my savior; here to save me from my daily drag and deliver me into career. I don't know if I want to risk that.

-Dann

For Being a Leaf

Loneliness, I'll never understand you...What honest sense do you make? I can't fret her absence when I haven't met her yet. Am I weird for not filling that void?

Here is a poem I have worked on since January. The different ways it has manifested itself, this poem has been as amorphous as me, and honestly, it is me. It has been for my mom from the start, I haven't decided whether or not to give it to her once I complete a final draft though.

Brown Hues

I'm sorry mom for being a leaf
I'm sorry I never took root.

And if my rigid edges prevent you
from ever knowing just how I feel
then I'm sorry mom,
I'm sorry for being a leaf.

And when I drooped over
a lonely branch.
And when I shimmered
sobbing the dew.
And when I contemplated,
I'm sorry. I'm sorry

for browning too early;
burning out in the sun
rootless.
I'm sorry,

I'm sorry mom for being a leaf;
for bending over fired grasses
and crunching as they browned me out.

I'm sorry mom,
for finding comfort under the earthly
elements you hid me from, I'm sorry.

For forgetting about roots and taking flight
I'm sorry mom for being a leaf.

When you saw me drift
from one town to another state
you must have cried.

But I'm sorry for being a leaf, mom.
I'll always be sorry, mom, for being a leaf.

And now to begin my day. What will I do with my essay unfinished? Will I finish it God willing? Questions always plague my mind, maybe I just prefer these reality pertaining questions over the immaterial ones that plague me a thousand times more when I run out of reality. Also, what do you think of the title "Brown Hues"? I don't like it.

-Dann

Sage Advice

This barren wasteland of porn and pointlessness; what's up? How's it going? It's sure been awhile.

What thoughts grace my restless head? I'm never quite sure, I like it that way. Perhaps that's why I'm here again, you sage of advice. How many pointless discussions have we debated into uncertainty? How many secrets of mine do you hide?

I've returned for answers, that's it. And look, I'm already finding them.

-Dann

Triumphant Return

Welcome back to the interweb, Dan.