There is someone looking for you
for himself or her. I don't know if they'll
keep on looking forever when
we live our present lives so far
apart from each other. You might
as well be behind a glass at
all times. But I still would want that
lucky person to somehow reach
you and get consent to hold you.
That would make the whole world trip thing worth it.
Even if I can never see
that feeling or feel that sighting of love
myself. There's someone who completes
your chemical composition
as himself, but he may not be
that unselfish. He may refuse
to know you as you are, and that
would break my heart for you. Coming
close to being almost complete
is not the best way to walk through
this ticking down life. But maybe
he'll feel the inevitable
pull, break the glass, or maybe the
spirit of the glass'll recognize
him and open itself up like
a sudden window or a door
inside the air. That's a moment
wished for you. That's all I can say.
Bonus poems:
I Don't Know by Darryl Price
how many more
times I can
see her without
falling in love.
Days by Darryl Price
I don't have anything left for you. Maybe
I did. If you say so. Wanted to.
Your rules are nothing I can obey as
I always write what I want. I say what
I mean. And the days go by. The things we
care about are disappearing, making
their lightways up to heaven. What we are
left with doesn't feel all that good to me.
I don't know about you. I can't live on
the things that once made us glad to just be
alive, when we were the brave young and free
dancers. It seems so historically
alone and pathetic now, thinking that
we could stop the world, shake out
all that terrible greed, planting more and
more beautiful trees, learning to listen with the
ambassador dolphins, watching the
days go by. And the bombs are still laid like
eggs, in the dozens, collected and sold
by the awful basketfuls. The eyes of
the sun garden people are no longer
blazing but growing so much dimmer. I
don't hate you for missing out on the time
of reflective dreaming. It's not your fault.
As the days go by. Everything sounds the
same everywhere. Only the crying of
the poor wretched earth is being drowned out.
She was our childhood friend. She believed in
each one of us. We had no idea
what we were becoming then. But the rules
are not being posted around here. Days
go by. I can now make my poems out
of anything I encounter. I leave
them on the ground for insects to carry
away. I toss them into the air for
the white zooming birds to catch and gulp down.
I grab some sticks and write them in the dirt.
If it rains, I let the rain lick them off
my face like so many tears. And the days
continue. It's hard to fight, but we do.
Seashell
Here it comes then, that strange familiar feeling. There is more
Of something inside of everything else it seems. Who knows
what might just as instantly be made into a new feeling, a particular warmth
come over them within the same spot of stance as you? Well
perhaps that is too much to be asking the audience for right now.
There is nothing left of the old life but something
crunched out of a cardboard box and left on the window sill
to begin to fade over time. Still there is something that speaks
of community I can't understand that I know as an
understanding between us and summertime. Perhaps another mock language other than mine here
would have given you a much clearer picture. You're the one
who picked up the poem so it must have been
meant all along. Hello. Is that too simple a puritan phrase?
We're nowhere near goodbye,not yet, not until you drop the last
point that contracts me back into another sand of its
own make and model. We'll have to eventually make sense out of the
present facts together. We have finally met. I can't say
I'm not glad, but I wish it were in an
area where we could at least look into each other's
living eyes and see some plain truth there. Perhaps we are. Who am I to say
how the old world works on any new level? Who's to say
that eyes made out of words are not the better for it?
All I know is the further I get into line
I know you were meant to meet me here, and
so here we are. I have absolutely nothing fabulous to tell
you, but I do seem to be humming something amazing
whenever you are nearby. Even now I can say that's a
very good song to hear. You resonate within me from right where you
are and from right where you have found me. I don't
want to know how this magic works. You can slice
and label all the mystical loveliness you want out of this world but it still
won't answer the ringing bell's ultimate question. There's a hillside.
Can we go and sit somewhere and watch nothing but
the color blue turn into a circus of stars together?
I like the breeze. Is that part of your being
here, too? It's nice. I wish I could always stay
with you like this, alone, free, away, sharing everything and
nothing without meaning to. But the ground says it's now about time
to go, so here's that goodbye I promised. Here's to a certain
light made more vivid by our coming into contact with just one another.
Fly by Darryl Price
Love, how can I
Be you if I
Can't even see you?
Who is buried in
Your grave. Love, I
Don't belong to your
Generation any more. Love,
Don't you recognize me?
Love, stop talking your
Fascist nonsense, you're scaring baby
Jesus. Tell me what
You want. Love, why,
Must you always get
Me into more trouble? Love,
You've been such a
Bad judge of character,
Mine and everyone else's.
Love, let me give
You my new address.
Love, I can no
Longer feel your hand
Beneath my heart. Love,
We were very young
Once. Love, you are
A fraud and I am
Your proud fool once more like
No other. Love, I
Am not worthy to
Hear another useless apology from you.
Love, I can't find
My way home. Love,
I am from the lonely
Planet Earth. I have
Not come in any kind of peace.
Love, don't you understand—
Your spell is always
Killing me where I
Stand. Love, I brought the
Music you asked for, what happened?
Love, take these words away. dp
The Light in Any Room
by Darryl Price
I never got to say goodbye. I almost forgot
to fly. It doesn't matter to anyone but me.
That's the hardest part. They never got to hold
you. Not one of them ever made you laugh.
You used to shake your hair into your face.
I could hardly stand the wait to see your
face again. I never said goodbye. You knew how
to take off your shoes without causing a fuss.
But I noticed every single time. It made the
world seem tame by comparison. Nothing furious or brash
could compete with your skin. You lit up the
light in any room. I never got to say
goodbye and walls I'm in now seem like too
much of a sacrifice made. You walked slowly, like
a free and unafraid animal might. But I heard
you crying in the halls of my heart. I
only wanted to say goodbye. All my words choked
on themselves before I could swallow and clear the
passageway. When I found my voice at last you
were already gone from all of us like a
spell of a summer sunset. We sat stunned, frozen
to ground. I almost forgot to fly. I wanted
to say goodbye. I still do. This is as
much as I'll get. You were the deepest ocean
I ever knew. Goodbye, my dear sweetest human being.
You continue to bring out the best we can
offer. Goodbye, glad we got to see us believe.
Nicely done Darryl. The ever illusive moment we all wish for.*
"I can now make my poems out
of anything I encounter. I leave
them on the ground for insects to carry
away. I toss them into the air for
the white zooming birds to catch and gulp down.
I grab some sticks and write them in the dirt."
A manifesto.
*
"I can now make my poems out
of anything I encounter. I leave
them on the ground for insects to carry
away. I toss them into the air for
the white zooming birds to catch and gulp down.
I grab some sticks and write them in the dirt."
A manifesto.
*
Gentle, as always. *