Plant Me

by Darryl Price


If you find the place they forgot to bomb send me a

hot pink postcard. The planet is only so big. We're already dipping

our heels into the waters without wanting to become true believers, miserable

followers. The bedtime stories will have to change their heroes into fish,

their fish into men, their men into mists. And hope for rain.

And hope for the storm to end all storms. To bring the


purple dawn. To be a light peeking through the swollen blocking rocks.

Look what's the point of being quiet? Anything they shoot will have

been us. It's easy to see yourself as something moving in a

lit cloud, but, really, we all want to be held and allowed

to openly weep for the young victims. Choose your weapon. If you

find that place they forgot to mow down plant me a tree.


If you find a place they have forgotten about please destroy the

map. If you find the peace you deserve tell your love I

am thankful for her tower. If you find a place they forgot

to bomb don't let on. Don't do anything different. They are looking

for war with their one revolving fiery mad eye. War is on

their sick snarling snake lips. You can see their diets hanging from


their teeth in tattered bloody strings. But keep a cool head. Laugh

but let it go. Cry but let it go. Bury your dead

but let them go. Keep dreaming. Fill the world. Smile but let

them go. We are not the innocent ghosts here. Not yet. We

are the beacons, talking our beauty into the dark places. We are trying

to figure out what it means to care after all care is


wiped out of the air and off the ground. That's where you

come in for me. You are an outlaw song I can remember.

I love that song as much now as the first time I

heard it. No world should be turning and twirling without it. No

new bird should attempt to sing a bud to life without it.

That's as much of an explanation as I can offer. If you


find a place they forgot to remember, then celebrate the chosen days

that are left with everyone you meet, regardless of their animal nature.

If you find a place they forgot to bomb try to stay

there for me. The flood is not going to care if you

are beloved or not, if you are one of them or not.

But remain vigilant. But keep trying out new things. If you find


a place they don't believe is magic, don't forget what you see

with your eyes closed to the money. But keep your head open.

But keep your heart awake. This is no time to pretend you

don't love poetry. If you find a place they forgot to bomb

make a joyful noise and release it into the shadows. Heal it.  

But keep trying out more ways. Remember where you heard this first. dp   

Bonus poem:

A Place for Us by Darryl Price


I want to talk to you for a

minute. I don't care about the

effing weather. Idol banter

seems so far beneath you, but I'm


sure, it has its ordinary

place of honor. Let's dance. Not on

the conscripted floor, maybe out

in the street, in the highest trees


among the shaking leaves, oh this

feeling is like holding something

alive and wiggling to escape.

Is that too obvious? I don't


care. In all directions, they are

always telling us to just hold

on, survive, but what does that mean,

if for instance together we


cannot even lightly touch a

blowing blade of grass without some

harsh governmental restrictions

being forcefully imposed on


our most sacred dreams? You know what

I mean. These people hate to see

any kind of love set free. It

makes them mad as hell. They lose all


their diseased marbles. They mow down

peaceful flowers in protest. Cocked

guns come out of every window.

Car. House. All loaded. Doesn't much


matter. I'm tired of it, aren't you?

That's why this poem exists, it's

a place for us. We accept your

heartache. Forget them. Make some noise.  dp