by Darryl Price


These little things, they are the hope

We are hoping for, they are everywhere.

I made this one just for you.

Call them feathers. Call them roses. You'll


See them if you need them. These

Little things carry the good news that

Started a long time ago. Call it

Stardust. Call it sunshine. You'll


Feel them if you believe your heart.

Little things have not faded. Little things

Are there, in the morning. Sometimes hanging

From the stars all night. You can't


Expect lights to not have a playful

nature. Call It rain. Call it breath.

Call it walking a golden sky. When

People kiss on purpose it can knock


Your socks off.  Little things have incredible

Authority. Little things remind us to listen.

To live. Little things are holy beings,

Don't you think? Call it free. Call


It a smile against the dark. Call

It a familiar song, a familiar hunger

In the soul of your central humanity

System telling you to wake up more


Than your ever after body. Call it

Inside out. Call it sisterhood with the

Earth. Call it divine, but only if

You deliver the humor without judgement or


Horror. These little things are never suicide

Notes, but prizes you open with your

Mind's window. Look wide around.  Sunset. Moon

rise. Can you believe our luck? Quick.

Bonus poems:

Puppet by Darryl Price


That monster underneath the bed

Is no dancing dog. I wish you

Could feel something, other than your

Darkness or mine. We're all bored with


The same frustrations. No heaven

For the rat in the maze. All these

Years spent believing are now a

Soft memory of doomed love. Thing


Under the bed gives dreamers a

False sense of the landscape to come.

The creeping musk under the bed

Is no prophet telling you to


Let your wife go home to own her

Salt, licking the walls clean of your gone

Presence, but a shadow put there

By your own selfishness and


Pretending to be asleep. The

monster under the bed is no

apologist, he might be a

bomb threat, but not to your person,

but on your tendency to want

someone to not bullshit you. The

Trapped claw underneath the bed is

In your head, always has been, but


That doesn't mean it won't bite you.

Mirror under the bed, the heaped

Dust around it, reveals itself

In slow motion, over time and


By years to be less scary than

Utterly pathetic; something

Unwashed, never expected. A

Mess that lies lost in single socks.

Birds and Beasts by Darryl Price


The world has gone crazy, but please let me make you

One of my songs. You can eat it, if you want.

It tastes better when it's fresh, but you can also take

It with you on long journeys. The world has gone crazy,


But not everyone has turned into a gun.  The world has

Gone crazy, but the gardeners have not been wiped completely out

Of our heads. They are still there, planting beauty and sustenance

With every whistle. The birds and the beasts may run from


Our fires, but they still crave a tender touch. The world

Has gone crazy, but it's not the first time. The world

Has gone crazy, but we have not forgotten them. They were

Children once before the adults experimented on their innocence.  The world


Has gone crazy, and we must forgive them for that horror,

But we won't join them on their march. World's gone crazy,

But the sky is as on our side as it can

Be, diluting the pollution with its own oils, painting the warnings


On the canvas of stars like always, with exuberance and sometimes

Heart-rending beauty. If you bend down and watch the semaphores of

The tiniest butterflies, you will see that they are saying that

Home is eventually in every direction. The world has gone crazy,


But there is a way to remain sane, if not safe,

And that is up to each one of us to decide.

It's not a trick, it's a choice, it's a living prayer

And an act, but it cannot be coerced, only given, only


Received and passed on. Bless everyone you meet, but be prepared

To defend each blade of grass beneath your feet. The world

Has gone crazy, but we cannot go with it. You'd be

Surprised how much a merry tune in the middle of the


Fight can prevent further bloodshed. If you can't hear one, make

One up. The world has gone crazy and I don't want

To pretend this doesn't make me sad, but not so sad

That I no longer care. The world has gone crazy, but


There are little blue flowers pushing their soft faces against the

Protective plastic shields of modern living and struggling to make a

Noise of their own. My guess is they have something important

To say. I want to listen. I will be listening for


As long as I can. We don't have to drink the

Spouting-off hatred. Turn it off. Pour it out. Knock it out

Of the hands of your friends and family. The world has

Gone crazy, but we're still here if we keep


Our love alive in everyone everywhere. That is the hope. Yeah,

It's a pretty big concert. I guess we'd better get started.

Remember I made this one up for you out of nothing

More than a friendship on paper, but it's worth something more. dp