Brian Dan Christensen
Brian Dan Christensen is a writer and translator.
Limerick of Grass
There was a writer named Günter Grass
Who knew all about der, die und das
His ethics and morals
Won prices and laurels
As he spent a lifetime rewriting his past.
Twelve Bar Blues
Posted in Music, Poetry, Uncategorized on February 6, 2015
Feed the cat
Feed the birds
Glance at poem
Change a word
Boil some water
Grind some beans
Brush your teeth
By all means
Turn the dial
Morning news
Lover’s kiss
Twelve bar blues
As The World Kept Falling Apart
Posted in Poetry on January 7, 2015
As the world kept falling apart
And I had no words of solace to offer
I went to buy roses for my lady
I passed houses being demolished
Houses being built
I crossed bridges of steel
Rivers of ice
And while it was cold
And hostility hung in the air
Like a breath withheld
The bouquet resting in my arms
Turned into a shield of humanity
And then back into roses
Another Old Christmas (Howard Walker’s Christmas Song)
Posted in country music, Folk music, Music on December 21, 2014
I’d be such as terrific guest at your house
You don’t have to comb your hair
I’d bring a quart of Old Crow, chocolate for your kids
I’d even bring my own folding chair
And I’d sit by your table, no, I won’t stare at you
That tree sure is decked out in style
And if I don’t make it this time around
I might be there in a while.
I’d be such as terrific guest at your house
Say, who painted that painting over there?
I like what your husband did to the floors
Oh, that fire burns so warm and clear
The smell in this kitchen brings back memories
The apron my mother used to wear
Well, if I’m not there before darkness falls
I might have gotten hung up somewhere.
I’d be such a terrific guest at your house
My cousin has this old Chevrolet
That dress looks exactly the same on you
As it did at Half Moon Bay
No, I didn’t get your letter, no, Jack passed away
I see they’re building a new road through town
The shadows are long, we might see some snow
But you might not see me around.
I’d be such as terrific guest at your house
This Christmas I’ll bring you a book
And sit by the piano and hum a few tunes
If I cry, pretend not to look
Well, here comes the jailer, it’s time for lights out
I‘ll finish this letter some time soon
It’s another old Christmas for me without you
But at midnight, let’s both look at the moon.
Rockaway
Posted in Poetry on September 17, 2014
I was swimming the other day
Along the coast of the Rockaway Peninsula
When a flock of hundreds of birds
Came in low out of nowhere
Eyes dark and determined
And then I thought of François Mitterrand
How he served thirty Ortolan buntings
For one of his last meals, how they are
Caught alive, blinded, force-fed and drowned in Armagnac
So as to be killed and marinated in one fell swoop
I have never been this close to so many birds
See how they dare make themselves available
In the silvery, silent end of season
So majestic and yet so at hand
The significance if which, I have decided,
Is more than just this
Made by Human Hand
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized on September 2, 2014
Open doors distract me
Closed doors confine
It’s hard to find a door
That I don’t seem to mind
I like the simplicity
Of these ancient quarters
Walls white as snow
Floors dark as water
Revolutions take all colors
Even hurricanes have names
Dictators claim the benefit of doubt
But their dead are still the same
Searching the stars above
Led to only earthly treasures
So I read my King James Bible
For its smell of burgundy leather
It takes such limpid rhymes
Regret comes second-hand
Man’s search for tangible beauty
For things not made by human hand
Sonnet 1
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized on June 25, 2014
The Great Molasses Flood of 1919
Killed twenty-one men and a closet queen
It was ten years before the stock market crash
But stuck in molasses, you don’t think about cash
Horses were trapped in the sticky mess
And very nice people shot them to death
Even the elevated train was destroyed
What a let-down for Sigmund Freud!
The tank was filled just to spite Prohibition
The country, like the booze, was in bad condition
It’s amazing what a population will entertain
To keep their supply of fermented grain
But the lesson to be learned is that tacky goo
Should be in kept in small jars labeled “George W”
Sonnet 2
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized on June 25, 2014
It’s a blind date, and they say lovers don’t eat
But I buy crustaceans and bake bread, whole wheat
I cook a stew in this huge oven of mine
While you’re on your way, taking your time
And then I see your face—you’re a vegetarian!
So I whip up a feast quite unbarbarian
Made of the choiciest organic ingredients
Just to show I adhere to experiments
I may not be the man of your dreams
But I know how to sizzle ‘em Boston baked beans
I may not be tall and handsome enough
But I serve Champagne Pierre Leboeuf
And if this night doesn’t end as I planned
At least I’ll have won your digestive gland
A Prairie Home Companion
Posted in Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized on April 22, 2014
A brief note: I have been invited to make an appearance on “A Prairie Home Companion” on May 10, 2014.
The show is live from the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville, Tennessee. I won’t even try to explain what the Ryman means to me. Tune in and see what we come up with.
You can listen to the show live (and later) here:
http://prairiehome.publicradio.org
