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The Envelope Said 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 alone. 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 from me.
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 if we're lucky that way.



The Damned Day Doesn't Even Begin to Take Good 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, a

Bite meant to keep the paranoid listeners from discovering

Anything new about their own air. They listen to every little

Thing but they hear nothing. 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 in. You've got to breathe, and to dream if possible or not. Let them listen into 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 awaken. They'll claim

The dream as their own in the end of that story. Or worst case scenario,

Use them to destroy you in the name of some patriotic nonsensical

 

Space war 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 to be opened. All I'm saying is keep your eyes and ears to the ground.

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

You as well.Lock or no lock, we've got to spring this thing for those who are coming. Keep a leg out for joy.

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