You can wipe your feet on me, twist my motives around all you like, you can dump milestones on my head and drown me in the river, but you can't get me out of the story. I'm the plot, babe, and don't ever forget it.

-Margaret Atwood, Good Bones

I did not write this:

Broken Poet

Remember, i was a broken poet
holding on to the drama of life in the doldrums
you were a strong lover
in both heart and muscle
you could have been my mother
for all those tears you caught

Remember, i was a fucked up writer
more depressed than inspired
you were sick and tired 
of all that i cried 
and our lion fire
musta surely suffered from the rain


Tanya Davis 2008

a small poem

you are playdoh, smooshed into the carpet of my heart 

a wine stain on my couch

i'll pretend I tried to scrub out 

tiny moments

why do tiny moments haunt us
more than speeches
sand paper fingertips, on my forehead in the dark
cranberries tainted with second-hand smoke

i'm choking on milk
it spills all over your mom's spaghetti
from laughter
we eat it any ways

and why do you haunt me
you were a tiny moment in this life
a friend
lingering in my mind like a lover, abandoned

your penmanship
explosive on my closet walls
and everyone we'd meet
would swear that we were sisters

a distant muse of distant art,
your tiny moments
close to my heart

small late night poem

nothing better than waking up dehydrated,
feeling around on the bedside table
and finding a cup
half full
but
what if
that cup were half empty?
sitting there on the bedside table,
and when you woke up so parched, it just wasn't enough?

Happy Hanukkah

(Hanukkah means more to the non-Jewish when their in love with a Hebrew soul)

Called to tell her "Happy Hanukkah."
she slurred back to me,
"Oh is it? Well thank you for giving me a reason to be drunk"

Leonard Cohen "Old Ideas", Toronto, Ontario

        Tonight could not have been more perfect. Leonard's voice has only grown more golden with age and I am truly blessed to have witnessed the magic in that concert hall...his knees buckling-the passion still present in his eyes now drooping, mostly hidden by his infamous hat. My beautiful mother to my right, smiling and clapping, silently enjoying. From my eyes tears were streaming, my heart heavy with meer satisfaction. The swaying bodies of the elderly-their fingers intertwined with their loved one's. I am but a young fan, hopelessly devoted, while they are likely- life long lovers,saying goodbye to the waltzes once shared to his records. Four hours I'd been longing for, I can not ask for anymore-just memories of melodies upon that stage. Proof that beauty comes with age.

"Old Ideas"

At last! Tomorrow is the day I've been waiting so very patiently for...Leonard Cohen's "Old Ideas" performance in Toronto at the Air Canada Center. My grandma managed to score me some beautiful seats and I will be attending with my mother-escorted by my father:) I'm not sure if my heart is completely prepared for what is going to happen to it tomorrow night. The reviews have been absolutely phenomenal so far...three hours of glorious music with such a legendary man. The tears will be flowing...this I can promise you.

Greetings from our Home to Yours