PDF

The Thank You Parade


by Darryl Price


Let's go now with those precisely marching shiny cloud band members, so eagerly clanging their golden sleeves together
over there in the valley of new light, for instance. They can lift whole
oceans up, like baby children, for a series
of smooches, all of unprecedented and unapologetic radiance. Ah. Ah. Ah.

Oh, surely they do get angry from time
to time, enough to darken our view of
the rest of the planets, but they are
quick to forgive, and to offer hugs all around,
 
so that the sky's once tearful eyes turn
happily bluer than newly born balloons. Then there's
my favorite aliens, the trees. These most ancient of
beings are the wisest of all pulled together

atoms on the planet. They push and pull every kind of
energy all around the world with their gnarly toes
and beautiful fingers at blurring speeds. They appear to
be standing still. Instead they are lighting and
 
relighting their feathery bodies with the eternal green
flames of nature's finest care. They provide a much needed warmth between
the dreamer and his forest of dreams. We are most
grateful to you for this free and revolving
 
service to all living beings. And let's not forget our flower-faced friends who're involved then! How
could we ever find our way out of
the fearful memory fields without their wafting heads bending the way, full of songs leading
us onward to so many more smells of all the new tomorrows? And
 
finally, here we come along, with our own wondrous selves! We are here
to provide the four directions of the wind
their central function, as a rightful purpose for
life's passionate daily play. See you next time, around this place. Same yes place, as yes is always remembered by us, one and all, in every sphere.


bonus poem:



Likely Story


by Darryl Price


Everybody's out to get me. They 
follow me in their cars, but never 
visit me at home. I won't find out 
they love me till I'm dead. If I had 
a time machine I would go back and 
rescue Emily Dickinson. These 

are just a few of the interesting
things. Everybody's out to get 
me. They watch what I'm watching to see 
what I see when I see the empty 
road stretching out before me.  Do they 
ever know me looking at the sun 

and clouds? They listen closely to what 
I listen to and transfer secret 
ominous playlists for themselves on
to cassettes--because it's cooler that 
way. They talk amongst themselves like a 
bungling gang of cartoon cat thieves. All 

whiskers, long legs and dark clothing in 
the starry night. They take notes on old 
wedding napkins. But they never will 
talk to me directly about la 
la love. I'm starting to feel LONELY 
in the bursting universe; that's full 

of other colorful universes. 
It's enough to drive a person 
crazier than a raspberry. I 
won't find out they love me till I'm thrown 
into the tunnel of white light head 
first. That's my only regret. That's why 

I want to save Emily. She needs 
to hear someone say thank you. Love you
just the way you are. Right to her face.
Love your words. Everybody's out 
to get me, but you don't get me, as 
John puts it. No use wondering why.




 Allergic Reactions #1: the Sun (1st draft version)  

Well I too woke up and outside there was the shining sun
literally smashing itself against the window like a crazed yet determined yellow

bird but it just couldn't break through the little rows of shuttered
blinds like it wanted to. It would hit and fall and recircle

and try again, over and over again. Okay, I said, I guess
I'm up. You can knock it off now. I stuffed the rest

of my sleep under the pillow for later. The usual things followed.
I opened the door and there the sun tried to stick its

huge foot in but it still couldn't enter the house altogether. I
got in the car and the sun immediately clamped down on the

silver top and beat it with its fiery fists until I turned
on the radio. This seemed to scare it away to some distance.

However it continued to glare at me from behind several boulder shaped
clouds. These clouds in turn were trying desperately to roll away and

gather against some other part of the sky by themselves. The sun hung on
with all ten fingers. I rolled down the window and none other

than the wind reached a hand in and tousled my hair about
and then swam on beside the front tires like a friendly dolphin.

The sun poured on the heat and finally the wind went beneath
the pavement and stayed there. I pulled up to work and got

out just as the sun settled on a corner of the old
building like a vulture looking disinterested but nonetheless a little bit hungry.

073010



 

 

Endcap