by Darryl Price
by myself next to just one wide-eyed moment of wild blued out ocean.
You know the one I mean. I don't want
to have to speak to you, or even- alone- to myself.
I'd like to be left inside
the poem it makes me feel without
having to get up and pee every five minutes,too. If you don't mind,Mister or Mrs. Universe.
That's a poor metaphor I know. Just let
me be an invisible part
of the color of the sunshine,
the rocks, the guttural gulls,whatever
else paints the next wet sunrise onto the brand new
daily canvas at hand. Sometimes I want
you there with me. It's that simple I'd like to think so anyway.
No surprises there. You're a physical
presence lately and an intense
one. So your own poem would
probably have to go south with
you in the end. If any two
people are somehow born lucky
enough they can fit their new words
for each other together and
make a lasting sentence of incredible
meaning. Here, the home
of now, which I can certainly
appreciate I can tell you
is not quite near enough to that
salt for me but it will have to
do for the lick. I'm an old dreamer by now.
What did I tell you about that saying? But if I did
have to choose I'd choose to live among
a tribe of trees first. Nothing
makes more sense to me than a fine
specimen of that living tree essence.
Give me a hug, a kiss, a quiet
sign that love is manifesting
its spell all over again,
all are dignified next to some
healthy bark. I've never felt the
need to travel too far outside
of my latest home base because of the many
rare clouds I mostly get to see from out of
my own free head space. They are all just so spectacularly
thrilling to listen
to as they grumble about, near as all get out. They're
like these huge building block like monuments
to all earthly forms of life that
can go somehow missing right in
the middle of the bump and grind
or sometimes build and build until
they burst like soggy pinatas.
You don't always notice the construction
going on until you
become aware of the light and
shadow on the ground splashed around
like little scattered rabbits at
your feet,which by the way are sweet
to behold. So here is that shell
I promised you. And that song inside of
its canal. Your bottled note,my dear.
All rights reserved.
I find myself dreaming of the ocean. often. It's the place I've felt closest to all my life. The few times I've been I've never wanted to leave. But trees also hold my special attention. Forests remind me of having been here before maybe under different circumstances I can only feel deep down inside my atoms. Trees resurrect a knowledge, the ocean bursts open a feeling, both of which seem to go beyond time and space for me.