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The Sky Just Now


by Darryl Price


 

 

has somehow gotten off its swaddled behind and put on your own glass dipped   

green eyes for good measure , opening

up my

own eyelids with softly pushing 

fingertips I might add. But

there could have just

as easily

 

been a tiger

of some sort who's

simply learned to

navigate such

high roads or has

been swept up in

his own floating

 

dream-escape. Who am

I to take the

wild wind's first showing off tag

of the new healing 

day's projection on the latest

cloud around

and give it a

 

regular Joe

name? I've no desire to 

tame the moment life's

leaf turns

itself full into

the sun's notorious plans for world domination,

laughing at nothing in the whole burning process.

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