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The Envelope and the Stamp


by Darryl Price


I have no more use for the beautiful words you used to like so much for me
to send you. See my feathers do
not so much hide me now as give
me away; I tend to feel far
from home. Forgive me this. The
end jumped by me quicker than an

orange flower cricket on its way
to a new morning's bountiful
first opening strains. My words left
without making their swooshing sounds,
with the top four strings of my
control gone. Two to go. Some other

poet's pen must have seemed a more
suitable branch to shake blossoms
up and down on with the sweet breath
of my angel's dreams.It's all just
a matter of physics, both real
and imaginary, used to

build a quick wet animal out
of nature's constantly changing
ballet. Oh every now and then
I might still find that puddle to
watch my sorry face in and
that perhaps the rose pasted sky

behind does seem to indicate
there's really something else to sing
about, but my own mind can't grasp
the intricacies like before
when you listened and wanted more.
And so, the keys, this letter box.






bonus poems:





Oh We'll Be Beastly

 

for the time being.

No one knows when the

final death dart will

come. We only know

that it's already

out there pointing around

for us. They glare

so menacingly

at us dancing so

 

crazy and so sweet and

it just about unhinges

their broken down

hearts. But we should be

true to the given

moment,too. As children

we can choose within

the moistened bubble

to enjoy the

mixing colors of

 

our own destruction

by the simple air

we breathe. Some don't have

even that small privilege.

They start out

surrounded by bullets.

Anyway we've still 

got each other in

the same picture for

now. We can't help it.



The Damned Day Doesn't Even Begin to Take Care of Itself

 

Unless you mean it burns on and on by its own juicy fats.

And what do you care? That's just an annoying cultural sound

Bite meant to keep the paranoid listeners from discovering

Anything new about air. They listen to every little

Thing. They actually think it will ultimately tell

Them something they don't already know. And of course there are always

Strange new sounds coming out of the most unlikely of distant

 

Planets. You can't concern yourself with that.Atoms everywhere

Have a right to buzz brightly to the many wet suns that continuously 

Soak them. You've got to breathe, to dream. Let them listen to your dreams.

See where that gets them.Maybe that might wake them up a little to something besides fear of the unknown. Isn't that

The height of silly irony? You dream, they waken. They'll claim

The dream as their own in the end. Or worst case scenario

Use them to destroy you in the name of some patriotic

 

War space of their own sorry making. But we can't stop looking

For the comfortable nest again,the prophesized and unexplained

And beautiful noisemakers of the future present. Because

They alone turn a key in us that didn't even know

It had a lock. All I'm saying is keep your eyes and ears open.

Whatever you put in a box begins to rot inside,inside

You.Lock or no lock we've got to spring this thing. Keep a leg out.

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