PDF

Things are being said


by Darryl Price



 

Things are still being said in a world that

sounds like rough bows and straight slicing arrows

communicating with (smashing fists) a

pool of tired animals. There must also

 

come a time to surprise these same cruel

machines with metal striking metal. Things

are being said that arrive like capsized

canoes floating face-down in the pungent red

 

coves boiling around us. There must also

come a time to know the answer has been

beautifully sealed by indestructible

thoughtful thinkers. Dreams are being said that

 

are sleeping at your silence, fizzing out another's  

love song. There must also come a time

to hang up all the ancient fears and once

more believe roses grow. Things are being

 

said as though you survived all the mistakes

engraved on your flesh only to see the earth becoming 

light. There must also come a time to run

like a sweet madman to the arms of your

 

deepest lover. Things are being said that'll

remind you we are betrayed, we are like lost

donkeys together. There must also come

a better time to rise and stop being

 

so alone again. Things are being burned  

like shells half gleaming in sinking sand. There

must also come a time to dance on one

foot for our lost friends. Things are being said that

 

I'd much rather not hear at this time either.

There must also come a time to listen

to the rain and nothing else, my friend.

Not all the things being said are by us.






Bonus poems:


Birds Fly(original draft)


by Darryl Price





Birds fly and people focus on finding their still

point. Birds fly and people wait for love, but I wouldn't.

Birds fly and people think about beauty. Birds 

fly and people become frustrated. Birds fly and

people drown in little rooms. Birds fly and people

like strange words cast huge shadows. Birds fly and people

make mocking landscapes out of balloons. Birds fly and 


people frighten themselves in the mirror. Birds fly 

and people fold like origami horses. Birds 

fly and people ask for blessings under their breath. 

Birds fly and people die of old age on fire escapes. 

Birds fly and people will take horrible vacations

in their mind's lonesome valleys. Birds fly and people

are programmed to be the problem. Birds fly and 


people don't remember soon enough. Birds fly and 

people pour a glass of water. Birds fly and people

hurry in the wind and rain like it's a matter 

of pity. Birds fly and people run on the 

grass until nothing is left but bones. Birds fly and

people go down the stairs. Birds fly and people say

little to each other. Birds fly and people wave.





How to Remember Important Things


by Darryl Price


 

 

Save the whales. Save the dolphins. Save the bored housewives.

Save my hands, so often cupped over the sorrow in

being alive. Save the beautiful made-up cherries of delight

I feel everywhere in your presence.  Save the sprawling landscapes

of late night cafeterias of the mind. Save the often

forgotten radios of our flying dreams. Save the hand-printed love

 

letters of early morning light. Save the inexhaustible curiosity of

a small  interior poem of silence. Save the naked air.

Save the Spanish tongue of Neruda. Save the sparkle in

the brushstrokes of a Picasso. Save storm and the rainbow.

 

Save the North Sea. Save shadows. Save all hearts from

beginning to break again. Save the ripped apart sky from

the rain of so many angry bombs sneaking inside. Save

the secret handshake. Save the Pandas. Save the sea turtles.

Save the roses. Save the last dance. Save the sailing

boats and  floating planes of melting romance. Save whatever makes

 

no sense. Save this feeling. Save the butterflies with passionate,

provocative kisses. Save the question of imagination.  Save the end

of the poem until you really need it. Save the

world from itself. Save your wild goodbyes. Save every word.

 



Endcap