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Little Bird


by Darryl Price


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.





Bonus poems:



It

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.

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