by Darryl Price
of a strangely found desire. I wanted to tell you
something important, I'm sure, I mean it's pretty
obvious, even in this funny breathing space,
but everything has been said to death. More isn't
always better. Everything that has been said has
been said so many times over that the deeper
meanings have become lost out in the unopened
air like faraway balloons, has been done to a
black crisp again until all new romantic notions
appear to have been frozen on a stick beforehand.
But I'm not even in that world with you
now. Do you understand? You think just because you
see me standing in the sun next to you in the
bright moment that it's the same sun. We could cup our
own looping thumbs together right there and you'd still
only be looking at your own reflection in
a single windowpane. We are passing on different
worlds on our ways to the unknown destination
stations of our individual lives.
And yet you are near enough for me to feel the
possibility of your very real presence,
even in my solitary world. This seems highly
unfair to me. And so I bid you a silent
goodnight and thank you for the grimaced insight into self.
by Darryl Price
by Darryl Price
Want my Heartbeat
by Darryl Price
to return to its joyful center with a new thumpity thump.
I want all robots off my back. I want the
empire to forget my name ever happened in their calculating way. I
want this emptiness to fall like scales from all our eyes.
I want the poem to always matter more than the bags full of
money. I want us off of our knees. I want
to unplug. I want to feel your soft connection. I want
to know your connection as my own. Want to open petals all on
my own time. I want to enjoy everything. I want both
the sun and the moon in my window. I want the greed behind
the guns to be melted into the ground all over
the world today. I want peace made with the animals. I
want those who dirty our minds to be stripped of
their power to influence our level of violence. I want
freedom to be obvious to all. I want the electric
hoses to be turned off. I want the love for
one another to be turned back on. I want you.
I want the oceans to stop being used as an
outdoor toilet. I want to bring back the idea of
a bookstore where everything is represented together. I want to paint
my masterpiece. I want to make good common sense. I want God
to either go away or join the fight. I want
to amaze you and your friends into helping to tear
down the walls that keep us prisoners of our own
fear of one another. I want to make you laugh.
I want to laugh with you. I want you to
take me seriously. I want you to help me to
lighten up. I want to express my love in a
way that also expresses your love, too. I want to
be brave in my own unsure fashion. I want to
be for something good not against anything bad. I want
to see the poem through to the bitter end. I
want to go on to the next thing. I want
to get unstuck. I want to be here now. I
want us to understand the need for compassion. I want
to vote with my life. I want to live on
purpose. I want to dream big or go home. I
want to be your fool. I want to reappear. I
want to leave an interesting noise inside your head. I
want to shake your cold houses to the ground. I
want to be in an original boat. Want to be
glad at least in all my best dreams. I want to ride out
one last moment. I want to stop being so tired.
I want to untie all the fucking ropes and knots. I want
to make a new world for you to change. I
want to fly again in your eyes. I want to
set things free. I want friendship's charity to be the
order of the tenderest day. Want always to be
on your side. I want to say hello. I want
to say yes. I want you to take this hat.Here.
Darryl Price Wednesday,February 27,2013
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Indeed. It's always been profoundly sad to me that we can't share our feelings, only in a superficial sense. We know that love is to share, but it takes a bit of luck, and more than that, a certain alignment of stars that may or may not happen. It's the luck of the draw, but if you are perceptive, you still can sense the trailing comet of possibility across the sky of might have been.
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"We could cup our /own looping thumbs together right here and you'd still /only be looking at your own reflection in / a single windowpane."
The rhythm of a Darryl Price poem is mysterious and healing as a dream. I am always replenished by your words.
*
I'll add -
"air like faraway balloons, has been done to a
black crisp again until all new romantic notions
appear to have been frozen on a stick beforehand."
Good piece, DP. *
"You think just because you
see me standing in the sun next to you in the
bright moment that it's the same sun." This got better and better with each reading.*
DP: Sad but fine.*
The essential existential summary.
The last sentence, the "grimaced insight", so wrenching and true. *