Dealing With a Small Box Epidemic All On Our Own

by Darryl Price


Sometimes you've just got to dance to

Be heard. You have got to sing out loud

To be understood. Other times

No matter what you splash 'n' paint on 'em


The beauty goes on shamelessly

Not arousing any type of newfound

Curiosity. We're all at

The dangerous end of someone's


Notion of fair play. Sometimes you

Have to beat your wings against the

Bright bulb of this life just to stir

Up a little more texture to


The air. You have to dive headfirst

Into the active ingredient

Before you know you're still alive

Or not. Sometimes you tell yourself


You'll think of something else to battle

The pitiless, dull, corrupt and

Insane emperors of Art. Go

Publish a friendless little ode


Under a nonsense pseudonym,

For instance, for fun, clapping three

Times in the saddest process to date,

Scare away the hypocrisy, if you dare.


Sometimes this means you are about

To cry. I know. Other times you

Blow your nose and picture a kissed

Apple as pink as a Harvest


Moon. Other times, like now, you share

The simple joys of the forest

With nothing but leaves—I don't make

This shit up! Only sometimes, like


When I first saw you then, you forget

All about stepping into the

Taciturn water. Forgot you'd

Already cut open all my flaps and flattened me out for good.




Bonus poems:




Pots & Pans


Looking for a good opening line here,

Can't seem to find one so you'll just have to


Live with this lump of words until we get

Things started. I had this lofty notion,


Banging together a bunch of vowels for fun.

Anyway, might as well get on with it,


But please don't get me started on the real

Reasons I want so badly to clang, clang, clang


Every cloud in the skyway today. I

Think you know what I'm getting at—I've said


It a million times to you before—how hard is

It to hear the sound of one hand typing?


Don't play blind, deaf and dumb with me. You aren't

A wizard and I'm no lamb. I'm going


To pull back every curly sun ray today and

Let it shimmer & shake its way back to those


Heavens as loud as it wants to—that's the

Assignment I've made to myself. I hope you will


Understand. I need the noise. It helps me

To feel ever present. So this is a one-man


Parade and it's coming down your street.  Is

This a rain bucket full of growing flames? This is


An iridescent purple throated grape waiting to be discovered.

Ha! Sorry, this poem's not labeled for any kind of


Retail sale. Argument against a heart-

Less circle without the proper bird echoes being involved.

Tennis Ball(early draft)

by Darryl Price


Well there must be something to say that doesn't suck.

That doesn't remind. That won't back down. Rewind. There must

be something to say that gets in touch. That keeps

the plan alive. Yeah look at all those drop outs.

Look at all those chickens. There must be something to


say that I had no idea was available to me,

to us. I like that kind of surprise, don't you?

There must be something to say that isn't just swimming

up in a hurry to say a stupid goodbye. I'm

sick of goodbyes. People use them like ass wipes. There


must be something to say that takes a lot more

than the expected public leap. There must be something to

say that is at peace with itself, but still not

quite dead yet. Uh Oh here come all the fledgling

psychologists with their empty butterfly nets spouting their lovelorn advice


on the unsuspecting world like over eager doggies looking for

another toss of the already soaking tennis ball. You get

it. Well there must be something else besides all the

fuzzy nonsense. There has got to be something to say

that isn't just the echo of some nostalgic longing for


the good old days. Fuck the good old days. There's

nobody here but us now. Get with the program and

help me to find something to say that is more

honest than the infinite ache all around us. I mean

it. There must be something to say that the gods


can actually hear in spite of the stars. I didn't

say anything about your religion. Jesus, listen up. There's beauty

in the world that isn't applied through a tube. There's

truth in the world that isn't found in a book.

There's enough tears already to last us until the end


Of all time. Haven't we had enough? All I'm saying

is there must be something to say that can be

heard through all the constant babbling bullshit about nothing. Maybe

this isn't it. So? So what? I don't have to

explain my paintings to you. You probably wouldn't understand it


if I did. Feel what you feel. That's the closest

you'll get to an explanation. Just remember there must be

something to say that isn't just about falling asleep again.

There must be something to say that's like planting trees.

Something more than drivel. Would you come in then?