Lemon Citron

by Darryl Price

Here it comes at long last. We just can't do it 
like that again. We don't have the same time. But 
something's wanting something more to be more than 
this. Here it comes again. But you bailed on me 
the last time around. Went silent as a cold 

lighthouse out of any kind of bulbs. Why were 
you so surprised then when I crashed? It wasn't 
intended. Certainly not to let the rocked 
ocean step on your sinking toes. Certainly 
not to let the stars get inside your flying, 
promising hair. Certainly never ever 

to forget your voice singing over the moon, 
streaking like its own comet. Who am I to 
deny the natural phenomena of 
your coming and going? But my life as I 
have said did hit a few rocks as I was stopped, 
staring into the shocking darkness of your 
felt presence. Here we go. Now you say you want 
to always remember my name. Now you want 
to email me a sweet letter like in the 
golden days. Oh windy stationary, you 
want to give me a lock of your light! As if 

I am only lost because I've forgotten 
the sound of you whispering your name into 
my restless sleep. A buried car radio. 
Like a flashlight in the grass. Here it comes down, 
down the path, rabbit and all. Looking for a 

satisfactory answer to up. Up we 
go! Up all night. Embraced against the cave wall, 
our hands smearing shadows into animals,
with spears in their hearts, in their heads, in their souls,
for something crying at the heavens, bolts of
lightning thrown against the earth for naked joy!  

Bonus poems:

Trying to Talk My Lost Soul out of It

by Darryl Price

You won't get into heaven. Isn't that their number 
one? But they're always happy there. They always feel 
good as gold. Right as rain. Sometimes I feel 
so sad. In heaven they're always glad. Sometimes I 
just don't want to care about anything any more. 
I'm sick of it. Anti-social. In heaven the 

perfect weather never changes. You'll only hurt the ones 
you love. Isn't that reason enough for you? You'll 
turn out all the lights in the house. On 
the whole block probably. In heaven there is no 
such thing as darkness. Nothing is hidden. Does that 
mean there are no blues players? All the music 

sounds the same? I don't think I could take 
that. I don't like it on this planet's elevators 
and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't like it inside 
there. I want to be free to feel everything 
real without guilt. I think I'll hang onto my 
imperfect ego. By the way. I don't want to  

be boring the clouds. You won't get into heaven! 
I'm not sure I belong. I mean would I 
still be able to hold you? Would you still 
hold me? You won't get into heaven. .What about 
our wildest dreams? Will they be knocked off, turned 
into endless singing hills? (You won't get in.) I 

know. I know. But I'd rather keep an open 
mind. In heaven they never cry because there is 
no pain. Help! How will you know they are 
just ordinary folks then? You're definitely not going. Yeah, 
I figured as much. Is John Lennon there? I'm 
going to need somebody to talk with who has 

a good bit of bonkers humor in him. Because, 
you know, all poets are somewhat crazy. No one 
in heaven is crazy? Well that settles it then. 
I'm one of those lost souls you read about.   
Heaven doesn't need someone like me to mess things 
up with more questions than answers. Peace to you. 

Bonus poems:

Poem On Poem (Pretty Likely)

by Darryl Price

There is no going back. We are not
in rehearsal. The show must go on.
If there's joy, she is somewhere near us.
One star has already started its

journey across the sky. We are lit
by seeing and by being. There is
no going back. That which is all around
us is with us. Some of it's swirling 

on the inside. Still there is no going
back. There is only going. Perhaps
that is the center of our fears, but sadly
I don't have an answer. No going

back. No retrieving, so no regret.
The oceans never stop washing the
earth with rain water.  The rain never
stops wiping the clouds clean again. Clouds

never stop blowing around in the 
captured light. Light never stops seeking 
the truth. Good or bad. Up or down. There
is no going back. Does that really 

surprise you? We agree. Feel free to 
speak freely to me. I've wondered about 
all the sorrow all my life. Shouldn't
the love be enough? You don't go back 

to the question. The question follows 
you to the table. There's no going
back. We go until we stop. I hope 
your love is still going. I am not 

the sponge for someone's anger. I only
wanted to give away words in a 
moment of truthful invitation. 
I know they are not much more than beans; 

I've got nothing else more beautiful. 
There is no going back. What we make
of this is what we take from it. And 
what we take must be let go to float.