Who are all these rough people hanging over me itching me with their grapevines? Like dangling Gargoyles?
It's always been the same old perch. You wanted to know what I am always laughing about. About all these people hanging over me like twisted animal limbs blowing in the air like jostling
balloons. Let's get serious. All these people with their greasy french fries, like
wet spiders in a flimsy paper cup. Like the next train. Like spies in love with
swimming pools. I don't want to leave here without you. That's always
been my big to do plan of action. I'll even take your haircut with me.
But these people hanging over me have to get their own ride home. Let's find a
place under the half lights. These people hanging over me are like
too many teeth. All these people hanging over me like clouds thick with
sleeping crouching bats. A row of silent horse riders on a squiggly hill waiting for a smoke signal. Sometimes I feel alone in my pain loving you. Who
are all these people supposed to be? Crossed fingers? These people hanging over
me make me want to walk into a wall or a river. All these people hanging
over me like a plastic bag. With their cigarettes falling out of
their pores like ashen worms. These wine soaked people hanging over me like
too much pasta on a plate. Like a trip wire against my tongue. A tear stained
crumpled red picnic napkin balled on the ruined grass like a strange
lost marble. All these people hanging over me like a bath of candle
wax. A flight of expensive shuttered doors all competing for a slice of the same endless trunk of blue sky. Let's get out of here. Let me be the impossible
one who finds you smiling pretty in all the wreckage of the hours. All these
people can have their enormous beds of oyster shells to slurp in. There's nothing we need here to be happy. A little bird told me. It takes you.
wasn't as far for you to fall from the
sky. It took me a little longer to
find my center of gravity. I was
scared. I needed to concentrate to let
go. Already, you're walking far away.
Hello Is All There Is
by Darryl Price
to honestly say to you now. Once I would have maybe
written a single limited edition book
on a whole forest full of leaves about the uncertain stars
shifting above and around you just to prove that
these were the only ones I looked at real close and
personal in my life. But that has become too
lonely of a profession even for me to
endure. But those same perfect clouds now hang drooling
in tatters out of the basement's banished corners
in forgotten boxes like dead paper fish kites,
folded into frozen statues like dropped clocks. But
I have never agreed with you about any of this, any,
I never will. I'll see you is as good a new
grown greeting as you're likely to get from me. But I
remember opening the gates and you standing
there firm in the dirt, toothily smiling like a
skeleton key about to turn on all the charm
in the universe, only it was my world, my
room, my heart, my stars, even if I didn't know
it, in danger of becoming a mostly flooded path, a bloody bath.
There's no return engagement. But I've finally
put my hand back in my photograph. But that's all.
But I'm going. But you weren't supposed to forget.
But this is where we mean goodbye. But I dream on.