I Think You Know That

by Darryl Price

you've swallowed a whale bone and not a whole 
chicken. It's not about being surrounded 
by very nice stuff. We always thought 
there was much, much more than haunted walls inside 
cold castles. People connect the dots like 
collecting stamps. Things get colder all the 
frigging same. Feels pretty empty from here, 
without your complicated faith in your 

own sad misunderstood dreaming. I'm not 
trying to say it so they won't hear it. 
They can hear it if they want. I was so 
lonely I wrote love songs. I am lonely 
in love with you. There's no more to it. I 
am the one who chose to be this poet. 
No one forced me to lay about. I think 
you know my head was exploded around 

it, in its beauty, to its end. Now I 
must continue to write these letters to 
no one because I can't stop blowing up. 
But someone may still receive them. Probably
not while I'm alive. People live like 
they are racing to the gold cup finish. 
We always said there has got to be more 
than all the uninterrupted silent 

tears, the violent fears. I believed you. 
I believed you. I believed you. Believed 
you. People count the times they try through the 
night. It doesn't matter. It all adds up
to the same lying thing. A sky full of 
stars. An ocean full of sand. Only the 
moment sets us free. But we are chasing 
butterflies instead of being met as 

butterflies. I think you know some things just 
won't work without love. Maybe nothing does.
Nothing does. I'm sure of it. And now this 
particular letter starts to close in
on its origami swan self , pushes off
towards another far shore. It's been much
too long. Nothing leads me back to you, nor 
needs to. I found you, the smile's on my face.     

Bonus poems:

Upside Down Jesus

by Darryl Price

The upside down Jesus was first seen in a bowl. 
What kind of bowl has been up for considerable debate 
ever since. With hilarious results if you read the internet

like a newspaper. What's he doing in there, one lady 
was heard to ask no one in particular. He's giving 
us the peace sign. You sure that's a peace sign? 

Why is he smiling so much? It makes him look 
nutty. Shouldn't he be pissed off? I mean look what 
they did to the poor guy. His hair looks nice 

though. I wish he'd say something profound. But upside down 
Jesus never did. He only smiled and gave the dubious 
peace sign to all who dared to have a look 

inside the bowl. Well, I think he shouldn't be upside 
down at all, said a man in a moustache and 
tweed jacket. It's very disrespectful to say the least. Very 

unprofessional if you ask me. Who does he think he 
is? This is an interruption of normal everyday life and 
I won't stand for a bit of it anymore. Whereupon 

he left the area and was never seen or heard 
from by anybody ever again. By sunset the ever growing 
crowd had turned into a festival of sorts. People were 

selling all kinds of things with Jesus' image on them. 
Tee-shirts, key rings, cups, pastries and even panties.  Musicians played 
little happy tunes on their guitars. The crowd was laughing 

and eating, slapping each other on the backs, and taking 
turns staring into the bowl. As the sun began to 
set the image also began to fade with it, but 

it never did right itself. Where's he think he's going, 
various voices were heard to ask all over the place. 
Tell him to stay right where he is. And don't 

move a muscle. Please. Someone. Stop him from fading away 
from us. Stop him. A priest stepped forward and asked 
upside down Jesus to stay. We need you, he said. 

Upside down Jesus smiled. They say his smile was the 
last thing to go. That and his eyes. But again 
there's a terrible debate over the accuracy of this whole report.  

When I Go

by Darryl Price

you won't feel a thing. When I go you 
won't believe a word I said. When I go 
a little brown sparrow will visit your sleeping hand 
and bring you his dirty French fry. A lost 
gold ring will be found in the tall grass
by children playing with a new toy gun. When 
I go the music will turn itself into a 
dream color of unheard music. The kind you remember 
liking but can't remember why, coming from a stranger's 
open upstairs window. When I go I'll try to 

quietly remove my broken heart from your waking vicinity. 
You won't feel my energy for writing these rainy 
day poems, playing piano with just a few lonely 
fingers anymore, anymore. When I go you won't be 
found hanging around. When I go I won't bring 

you down that road. We will quit being anyone else 
but strangers in the bright hot afternoon winds. Clouds 
will get better seating. When I go you will 
get dressed up for a Hollywood Halloween, eat some 
bland breakfast cereal at your mother's and drive to 

the local farmer's market and end up buying something 
you've never tasted before. It will make you happy 
in the car. It will make you cry in 
the driveway. You will end up throwing it all 
away. When I go a brown paper bag will 

do. When I go I'm going to quit trying 
to explain my actions to anyone. When I go 
I'm going to reflect my art into the jazzed 
up dancing tree limbs, shake all the leaves north 
and south, east and west, writing down that wall.   

      When the Light Goes Dark

by Darryl Price


You are going to make another war. I am going

to make a fine paper swan. You are going to

plant a grim bomb or two.  I'm going to plant

a Bodhi tree and look for the artful moon entering

my room. You always seem to be chanting on about the

courage it takes just to die. I sing about just feeling


kind of sad, perhaps you've heard no other whispers about love's price.

You are going to count your money all alone. I

am not going to bother with counting all the stars. You

are going to run over something that once wept real tears.

I am going to lift my eyes for them. I am going

to lay my hands on their wounds. You are going


to smoke something truly foul and push the smokey lies through a million

pointy teeth, which are really chimneys, which are really buildings,

which are really dirty windows. I am going to forget

to always be the first one. You are going to pretend you

can't find your heart. I am going to walk with

the ones who need a friendly cane to get along


and belong. You are going to look away behind a

steaming plate full of signature fries. I am going to

let someone else laugh in the perfect places. You are

not going to bend backwards to be made any better. I'm

placing this poem here for you. I'm on your dream radio. Listen.

I'm not waiting to hear the ultimate truth. You're the missing clue.