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There Was a Poem


by Darryl Price


in your hair I meant 
to pull like a thread,  
or brush like a leaf, 
but then thought better
of disturbing its 

simple, natural, 
momentary beauty.
Who am I to
mess with the wind and 
rain as their kisses 

made the perfect compliment 
appear out 
of nowhere above 
your naked ear like
some moonlight? I remembered

the words to 
a song I'd always 
heard but never understood 
as my own 
true self until your

eyes decoded them 
for me. That's why, by 
default, this thing in 
your hands is singing
like it's seen the stars

for the first and last 
time in one fell swoop. 
Life goes on, but I 
can't seem to find the 
exit out of this 

dream. I just want to 
read what's written in 
your hair over and 
over again before 
I or it disappears
 
from view. So
here I cup my hands 
one last time around 
its red and orange flame
and thank everything,

everywhere, for everyone. 
That's all I 
know how to do with 
this information. 
If it makes me a
 
silly, sentimental 
fool, I gladly 
deserve your definition 
as the slap 
on the back I need.



Note: one for beauty(above), and one for fun(below).




Them Apples

by Darryl Price


The fuck you think you're doin', Poet? Go. 
Be. Less. Of an asshole. Apeshit. Ape and 
shit. One word. Apeshit. Very excited 
or angry--which one are you? A wild and 
crazy asshole. The world in two words. Holy
and crap. Hey, that's three.  Like an explosion 

of wildflowers into oblivion. 
Six. That sweet urgency for today 
being the same Tuesday Ozzy Osbourne 
died. Twelve. I wasn't even there and that 
hurt MY feelings! I swear I looked at her 
sitting there and I thought these seven words; 

she's got a map in her lap. Jesus. One 
word. Ever notice how the smug people 
who make a living off of killing the 
Earth like to live in places surrounded 
by beauty and nature? Weird, to say the 
least. So are they emotionally disturbed? 

Unable to communicate without 
a loaded gun in the sun? Unable 
to swim without a pocket full of brand
new bombs in their rental? I have to go
now. Four or five. It's all falling through space 
with and without us on it. That's a mostly 

cloudy outlook, but it's not the only 
one. And there you go--you get to choose. 
Choose your words carefully, but don't forget 
the importance of play and/or contemplation 
of beauty in all its many 
curious forms. I'm only trying to 

reintroduce you to yourself if you 
were me. which you are--and are not. Bunch of
meaningless words or expressions of something 
beyond words. I'm not here to tell you
anything you don't already know. I'm 
only smiling through the fence of your mind.
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