Flicking On Some Trees, Just To See Your Silly Grin in the Half-Light of the Moon

by Darryl Price


The world knows how to make you smile.

 I'm certain, but it's your own unique

grin that they want for themselves.

It's always been their perfect prize

to horde. The trouble of course comes

from wanting something that only

exists in an illusory

moment like a fire on the sun.


Sure, it's there, it's just not something

to believe in. This doesn't mean

we can't get along together—it only

means we can't keep our hearts hidden

from the flying stars for too long. We

are ground up daily and sprinkled

in the winds of war and peace like

blown bits of leaves and bleeding flowers,


but it is truly okay. We make

a pretty interesting rain

(I'm told by the poets and avid

TV watchers). Thus I want

you to know something snappy about me. I

never ever wanted you to

feel anything but love, I just

didn't know all love is a kind


of sorrow, too. Now I do, but

like these cut down words, laughing at

me, my sleeves are much turned to blushing red,

and that tends to scare away the

less than human creatures of the

sleepy night forest. So I leave this

on this spot just for you. You'll know

it when you see it needs finding. 

Bonus poem:

There Is No World

by Darryl Price


outside of yourself that isn't listed

inside of yourself. You can get there

a dozen different ways, but there's

only one true way back. And back

and forth is always best taken

as one definite moment in time. It


might not be the best motion

you make out of your latest move,

but it is the best way

to go, once that is you get

over your incessant need to label

things as being either up or down.


The truth is a new perspective

can create the sweet answer for you

if you let it—just don't

let it put you in a mint

box, you'll need your feet free

to walk upon the clouds if you


must before returning to the earth.

Some would say here, also if you

must, but that's just a snaky

way to make folks feel uncomfortable with

their own ability to float. There's

always going to be some smart-ass who


can't resist pulling the fire alarm.

Don't let it worry you. They are

creating a karmic path that will

eventually come to haunt them and fill

their dreams with horrible ghosts that

march in and out of their murky


fears like luminous gases. There is

no escape from the pain you cause

others. It will find you and

present itself back to you until you

accept the gift. That's the way

these things work. And they are working


continuously, but that's neither here nor

there. There is no world outside of

yourself because at some point all

the billions of stars swirl into one

statement of fact and blink out/

or in depending on your faith that


day. Again it doesn't matter. What

does matter is how well you receive

the wisdom of your going around

 and around in the first place. Everything

is doing it, atoms, planets, Milky

Ways, oceans, eyeballs-you get the picture.


It's a question of how far

do we wish to see, down into

the depths of the dirt or

up into the vast network of dazzling

cosmic birthdays. Either way you'll see

the road beckons you. You


weren't meant to be satisfied with

just this—whatever this is. No, you

were meant to go exploring. You

were meant to have an adventure, and

you have precious little time to

do it all, unless you step outside


of the land of clocks. This

can be done of course, but it's

like surfing the big wave. There

is danger and excitement and a little

bit of the answer and you

might die trying, but you will be


thrilled and revealed and possibly given 

more than you ever bargained for in

the process. As always it's about

your freedom of expression, your art of

being, your answer to the question

of now that will determine your fate.