PDF

Small Box


by Darryl Price



 

Sometimes you have got to dance to

Be heard. You have to sing out loud

To be understood. Other times

No matter what you splash in paint

 

The beauty goes on shamelessly

Not arousing any type of

Curiosity. We're all at

The dangerous end of someone's

 

Notion of fair play. Sometimes you

Have to beat your wings against the

Bright bulb of this life just to stir

Up a little more texture to

 

The air. You have to dive headfirst

In the active ingredient

Before you know you're still alive

Or not. Sometimes you tell yourself

 

You'll think of something to battle

The pitiless, dull, corrupt and

Insane emperors of Art. Go

Publish a friendless little ode

 

Under a nonsense pseudonym,

For instance, for fun, clapping three

Times in the saddened process to

Scare away the hypocrisy.

 

Sometimes this means you are about

To cry. I know. Other times you

Blow your nose and picture a kissed

Apple as pink as a Harvest

 

Moon. Other times, like now, you share

The simple joys of the forest

With nothing but leaves—I don't make

This stuff up! Only sometimes, like

 

When I first saw you, I forgot

All about stepping into the

Taciturn water. Forgot you've

Already cut opened my flaps.

 

 

 

Bonus poems:

 

 

 

Pots & Pans

 

Looking for a good opening line here,

Can't seem to find one so you'll just have to

 

Live with this lump of words until we get

Things started. I had this lofty notion,

 

Banging together a bunch of vowels.

Anyway, might as well get on with it,

 

But please don't get me started on the real

Reasons I want so badly to clang, clang

 

Every cloud in the skyway today. I

Think you know what I'm getting at—I've said

 

It a million times before—how hard is

It to hear the sound of one hand typing?

 

Don't play blind, deaf and dumb with me. You aren't

A wizard and I'm no lamb. I'm going

 

To pull back every curly sun ray and

Let it shimmer & shake its way back to

 

Heaven as loud as it wants to—that's the

Assignment to myself. I hope you will

 

Understand. I need the noise. It helps me

To feel present. So this is a one-man

 

Parade and it's coming down your street.  Is

This a rain bucket full of flames? This is

 

An iridescent purple throated grape.

Ha! Sorry, this poem's not labeled for

 

Retail sale. Argument against a heart-

Less circle without proper bird echoes.




Tennis Ball


by Darryl Price


 

Well there must be something to say that doesn't suck.

That doesn't remind. That won't back down. Rewind. There must

be something to say that gets in touch. That keeps

the plan alive. Yeah look at all those drop outs.

Look at all those chickens. There must be something to

 

say that I had no idea was available to me,

to us. I like that kind of surprise, don't you?

There must be something to say that isn't just swimming

up in a hurry to say a stupid goodbye. I'm

sick of goodbyes. People use them like ass wipes. There

 

must be something to say that takes a lot more

than the expected public leap. There must be something to

say that is at peace with itself, but still not

quite dead yet. Uh Oh here come all the fledgling

psychologists with their empty butterfly nets spouting their lovelorn advice

 

on the unsuspecting world like over eager doggies looking for

another toss of the already soaking tennis ball. You get

it. Well there must be something else besides all the

fuzzy nonsense. There has got to be something to say

that isn't just the echo of some nostalgic longing for

 

the good old days. Fuck the good old days. There's

nobody here but us now. Get with the program and

help me to find something to say that is more

honest than the infinite ache all around us. I mean

it. There must be something to say that the gods

 

can actually hear in spite of the stars. I didn't

say anything about your religion. Jesus, listen up. There's beauty

in the world that isn't applied through a tube. There's

truth in the world that isn't found in a book.

There's enough tears already to last us until the end

 

Of all time. Haven't we had enough? All I'm saying

is there must be something to say that can be

heard through all the constant babbling bullshit about nothing. Maybe

this isn't it. So? So what? I don't have to

explain my paintings to you. You probably wouldn't understand it

 

if I did. Feel what you feel. That's the closest

you'll get to an explanation. Just remember there must be

something to say that isn't just about falling asleep again.

There must be something to say that's like planting trees.

Something more than drivel. Would you like to come in?        

  

Endcap