Threesome by Darryl Price

You made a fist, instead of a hand. Sent mortal missiles. Instead of a Cool cup. So many missed the meaning. They couldn’t relate their own heads, hearts Or feet to the perfection you asked For.You took everything,but called us Thieves. There was no other way to die Except badly and by your side. Now I’ve returned with poems to quench them.

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Unintended by Darryl Price

The wash of something blue into the red of something momentarily melting and beautiful but not for long. The promise of a living blackness to come. Black that will darken every doorstep, conceal but not restrict every attempt at dancing. The movement of all living things rushing together towards another chance to see another day through to its flashpoint. Forgotten starfish crawling into each other’s history,making starfish history keep with the times, with its arms, or are they all legs?But not alone. Never alone.No. All things continue to consume the universe and the universe continues to regenerate itself through the daily cannIbalism like a coat of many colors turned insideout. You can easily wear it either way and it becomes the season you are in.Consequences happen so fast that your reaction time seems like a joke in comparison. You might die tonight. The notices will all have mouths of their own, teeth stuck in your dreams.

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I Took My Blind Spot by Darryl Price

Out for riding and Oh she did jump the Overgrown hedges So beautifully Such that the little Purple flowers thrilled Themselves several Shades deeper in the Quickness of her flight.

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Another World by Darryl Price

wants war with another world. You are not like us. Don’t say you hunger in the same way. We have God’s word that you must be destroyed in order to ensure our own safety. God would not lie. God does not lie. There can be only one true world, but not if you are in it with us.There is no room for the unbeliever. There’s only the faithful willing to die, to kill,to sacrifice even their children to earn God’s forgiveness. But I tell you snakes hidden inside these poor men’s minds you are wrong and you have always been wrong to assume God wants anything to do with you now. There are worlds on each and every surface you touch. Inside every shaft of sunlight. You don’t have to believe me. Your hearts are constantly telling you this message. You must listen before it is too late to seek life.

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broken shells by Darryl Price

They do not come to life to live for a purpose. They often can be seen slowly carrying around their little sunken empty heads like practically torn in half purses full of pretend money. No amount of cash now is ever going to stop them from being stepped on by the big disposal’s iron toes. They are not completely blind. This is the sad act. Things have long ago run out of their ears and into the out of print bins. They aren’t even dead yet. They just are missing something, something like a wall, or a hip, but what is it? What’s that name? There’s a word for it.. They’ll never be done up pretty all the way again or refurbished and thrown back out to sea. No one will want to move in upstairs again. It’s best to leave the whole thing over to some friendly fishy ghosts. Who knows they may end up playing cards for a century or two. Give the place some semblance of a huge wave having been through there once upon a time.

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Crowd by Darryl Price

You can’t get out of it, but you can feel out. They can kick you out, but you can rejoin by refusing to leave in the first place.You know if you’re a part of something or not. The problem is this choice thing that asks you questions even when you’ve already arrived at the answer’s doorstep. Oh they can be cruel if you preen yourself differently. They take that as an instant insult. You are not playing mirror. No one wants to see the back of your skull. They watch you for signs. All’s well as long as you remember when to pull your assigned puppet string.

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To the Core by Darryl Price

Of the core we go because the core has been compromised. We’ll go deeper trusting in things turning inside out in the end because there is no place where a new center cannot be found. Plus we carry the ultimate tuner with us at all times. You could say it is us but of course that implies that there is no where to run,no where to hide. Let it. The implication that we are our own maps makes sense. As much as finding life in a frozen chunk of black sea. As much as finding that the universe contains another universe. It’s all true. The problem is the way they believe in things as the only way things can breathe.

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She just happened by Darryl Price

to be playing the hell out of her guitar out of tune and wonky sounding perfect for the blues at the same time as this car was pulling out of the driveway next door to the rosebushes that only bloomed to one side.And the telephone pole was sputtering uptop from being pecked at by a huge black crow when all of a sudden there was an enormous pressure drop in the wind outside the house and her cell rang twice but no more than that. After which it remained silent.As she finished her pleating the rains came and the door banged open and the porchswing was yanked from its chains and rolled into the swingset like a jagged pumpkin- mouthed scarecrow head.She giggled nervously, the baby wailed and the lights went out.I was just driving my car off the bridge when she lit the last candle and sat down and pressed her breast into the baby’s face and hummed more lyrics into its perfect ears. It all cleared a few minutes later like the same dream. I floated down the river looking for a ladder. Or a tunnel to home.

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The Money’s by Darryl Price

The Money’s gone but the heart was never for sale.

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Long Distance by Darryl Price

Here’s the thing. I never thought you’d Be swept away from me forever. Some Grains of you still seem to catch In my eyes from time to time. What I’m trying to say is I’m Sorry that we are no bigger than flesh. I’d give anything to be in Your presence without history or seasons having Been hammered to your heart. I understand That oceans will continue to live and Die in our veins, but also clouds Will rise out of our deeds to Drench us sooner or later. I want You to let go of me completely Now and know that you are loved.

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Border Town Dawn by Darryl Price

Border town meant one thing; we were caught up good in the middle of something dangerous; and understanding was at the very least a hundred miles away in either direction. All I remember is wanting to tell you that when you sat down and got up again your butt crack made an unexpected appearance. Like a bright moon that wasn’t there a moment ago. You’re not sad about the fact just surprised. I’m not complaining. I just want to do my duty as your witness and,well, your sometimes friend. Man, that is some white, white sand! Okay, okay, you can’t expect me not to notice. Plus I’m no good at pretending.I’m just saying,whoa.

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The Bad Haircut by Darryl Price

The Bad Haircut would not make friends with any hat. That goes without saying. It forced itself upon mirrors like splattered toothpaste you don’t really notice until it’s too late. The damage to your sense of decorum has already been done.That being said, it somehow managed to grow on you.And now actually seems perfect for your small head.

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SoApS iN tHe SiNk by Darryl Price

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Hello ghosts. I’m not ready yet to become part of your toothless frothing group but I thank you for the bubbling foamy offer. At least you care. But really you look just fine the way you are all meshed together in silent wail and freezing moan.And I’m sure on some level that it’s a most wonderful music you make that creates just the right imbalance between the swaying and the swinging note, the glowing perfect atmosphere for such ghosting together activities. It’s just that well you see I’ve a few more activities myself such as the writing of more poems among the bacterium to perform before I could be called anywhere near complete and ready to change so picture significantly. So although I do certainly appreciate the dear trouble you must have gone through to present yourselves in such an amusing and creative way to me I have to decline. I want to live. It’s ever so much fun.

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Long Lines by Darryl Price

Long Lines are moving past me again. I’ve been invited to join. I’ve declined for most of my life. Isn’t life a long line enough for most of us? We end up in the same place anyway. Not to be morbid. As far as I can see we’ve only run out of a few things like dodos, and there are plenty of folks still running around who might qualify.Just saying. It is what it is. We are a destructive bunch. We’ll consume just about anything.We’re goats on two legs. Look what we’ve done to the goats who have ever bothered to question such actions. That’s right. We chew them up and spit them out. Evil comes. It breaks into the most beautiful downstairs windows you’ve ever seen and begins chewing right through the lives of those whose lights bring the place its joy.And then people get in their cars and go to the grocerystore and squeeze the melons and act like they have a right to not get involved. But we are involved. Every kid born involves us the moment they breathe air, the moment they smile or cry. It goes on and so must we. But let us be still and silent in remembrance of those who took the brutal blows so that we might continue to fight for better dreams,for more careful dreamers,a kinder night for all of us.

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Unseen (a Five-Pointed Star with Four Streaming Lights) by Darryl Price

What you see us doing is not all we are being. Our kissing mouths not singing but praying. Don’t worry. We don’t believe in a god who hates gay people or believes in slavery or thinks of women as cattle. We only play to hum into the ears of the universe a new difference, a peace offering. One that proposes a love supreme. What we are actually doing is dancing with everything. To dance is to mean what you say, to feel what you are as it connects from body to body throughout time, even bodies of water, even bodies of stars, even bodies of dreamers dreaming in infinite space, even bodies of texts. We do this on purpose. You must know this. Because it is done for you but not only you. Because it is in harmony with the ancient trees on the arms and legs of mother earth sending and receiving the wisdom to care. Because it is an act that can be carried out at any time from any place by anyone. It is not a religion. It is not a joke. It is not anything but people. I like to think of it as poetry but that’s just me.

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The Last Time by Darryl Price

we met you wanted to be hungrily kissed in the dark with a small moon for your only pillow and just stars for your billowing nightgown. How am I to go forward with so much sweet chaos in my mind? I am wrecked upon your lips like a delirious dilapidated old sailor who embraces the surrounding sea like it’s an arrow through a sad thirsty heart.

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The Lucky Guy by Darryl Price

My lucky number is mushroom.
My lucky number is bat. My
lucky number is pear. My lucky
number is Milky Way. My

lucky number is cricket. is
cloud. is seahorse. Is learning a
lucky number? I think it is.
My lucky number is waterfall.

My lucky number is dragon–
which is timeless but also
untameable so really it
just might be zeroed out. My next

lucky number is daughter. Then
there’s poem–in which we are all
allowed to say I love you right
out loud and mean it. You get it.

P.S. My lucky number is
mercy. My lucky number is
Beatle. My lucky ones come with
their own regiment of angels.

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We are not responsible by Darryl Price

for airplanes that lose their
precious bombs like someone’s been
careless in spitting one rotten
tooth after bloody rotten tooth
all over the greenest of
forest grounds like saliva covered
seeds with no more thought
to the consequences below the
radar than to the awakening
hunger pangs of yet another
dying day for the poor
disfigured animals who used to
be gently drinking children or
for the murder of ancient
and wise guardian trees in
the night for starved dogs
who forever endure their tortures

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Sleep by Darryl Price

Sandcrestbladeupsidedowngreen
Clearcloselivestherethere
Thereherelightlightspeople
Mushroomstreesstarshousescows
Nobiggerthansandsalt

Gogoingwanttobe
Inbothplaceslikerefracted
Trianglesofcolortracingback
Andforththemiracleof
Usallofusall

Thingsthereisnounseeing
Onlyunbeingonlyunkindnessinstead
Ofairwaterearthhoney
Dripsoutofeverypore
Likethebestsexever.

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I can’t wait by Darryl Price

for romance to be accepted as the natural order of things. for the stars to reveal
their white hearts to us. for trees to finally move a little faster and join us. we are after

all causing the earth to die. lucky for us death is different for her. it is not a sleep.and
is not melting away. it is coming back to life from blackness, from stillness. we

are the only ones who want forever to be forever. everything else is finding new ways
to dance among the stones. the sun is not an only child. it loves right through the

night. its morning is connected to each morning. that’s better than forever. we’ve
always only had each other. but the shadows who make the illusions that bind us here

would much rather we spend our days cowering under the roots
of a gnarled sky than pitch a tent and celebrate that it’s raining. you know.you’ve

always known.

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Allergic Reactions #1: the Sun by Darryl Price

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. The sun hung on
with all ten fingers. I rolled down the window and none other

than the wind reached a hand in and tossled 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

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Red Meat by Darryl Price

Red as an eye blinking in disbelief.
Red as a mistake you should have
known better than to make. Red as
a moment in a photograph where you
are looking in the wrong direction. Red

as a gift lost in the sand.
Red as a meeting between a man
and a goddess. Red as a letter
curling into its lamenting dream for the
last time ever before the transformation to

ash. Some are only living as blind
fish in a cave of commercials. They
eat theirs with a well-done tongue that
sticks itself out begging for more. Some
are fatter than the stars. While others

are teetering on the brink of repulsion,
picking up the slick plastic edges with
two delicate fingertips at a time. After
the dump it becomes more paper meat,
pink but still red.Still flying bone.

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The Union of Opposites by Darryl Price

Oh look there’s a very tall one with
a squatting toad, not in a bad way,
but in a hey wait up you’re walking
way too fast for me to keep up
with you today kind of way. His feet

slide over the surface of the earth like
he’s on skies while her feet punched the
earth with jagged holes every couple of steps
or so and seemed more like tiny machinery
ready to give an oily cough or two
and call it quits at any moment. And

yet they dragged on together. There’s a beautiful
hopeful smile with a sneering less enchanted grin.
Boy is she in for a big surprise.
It’s her birthday and he’s completely forgotten her
name.He’s a lumox but she’s always loved

big animals.She squeezes his arm like he’s
a favorite stuffed bear hearing a secret thought
right before bedtime. And here you go there’s
an old gut who’s been up and down
the river a few times surely by now
used to three squares a day with a

prettified younger one who’s probably still trying to
keep the last one down for the count.
All of them seem to belong to each
other anyway. Okay just one more. The undiscovered
moviestar and the clueless cheerleader who thinks he’s

a smart dresser. He struts and she gaits
it but decides to give the long haired
boy a little soft at the corners look
as he rolls by looking for his tee
shirt, which he obviously must have lost somewhere
on the way over to the beach earlier.

Return to This Week’s Flash.

Cigarette(I just happened to look over) by Darryl Price

I don’t know why but it struck me
as something somehow very cruel
to see, this getting redder by
the second expanding ball of
fire like a hot saturn with its
many orbiting rings of intertwining
smoke keeping it from
completely exploding out into
the rest of the universe.
And then the flashing half lit face

like a black and white photo unevenly
torn from the pages
of a fashion magazine, or
a plaster head partly smashed and
hollow on the one side.If there
were eyes they were hidden completely
by a giant pod shaped hat
with something resembling boulders
or flowers in tied-together
balls cascading down the darker

side and into the canyons
of her car seat like a story
broken and silenced forever.
The sliced slanted shoulders like something
worn away and polished by
a hundred years of powerful
and ancient winds now keeping her
chin in precarious balance
by an act of sheer will. And then
the light changed.And she disappeared.

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Broken Signals Light Up the Sky by Darryl Price

Well it was really only a toy I
got for one Christmas when I was little.
But what does that mean when it worked
perfectly well for its size?For the size

of my hands? I remember how it came
in a cool looking tan leather case inside
a neat little red cardboard box. I loved
the whole package.The white molded plastic piece

it sat locked in like an unbelievable secret
discovery waiting to show you its powerful use,
never before seen by man nor beast. The
box it came in to me was as

perfectly wonderful to behold as the thing itself
with all of its shiny chrome moldings fitted

snuggly around the tiny machine it actually was
like racing stripes on what looked like some

kind of really well-made wallet.I have no
idea what the other material was–paper,leather,
cloth? I couldn’t tell but it kind of
felt bumpy like I imagined alligator skin might

and it made a little sticking sound that
reminded me of paper being torn, not in
half, just torn for a second, when you
took a picture.All pictures were only in

black and white of course. You had to
send away to have them developed, and to
buy new film. And that’s what happened. All
of a sudden they stopped making that film.

The Balance by Darryl Price

comes to us naturally. We know how to play even
when all play has been outlawed. They can bomb us
day and night with everything they’ve got and still something
will make a toy with us. Whenever you start to

look around you start to see too much. One can
only stand between the warring factions for so long and
try not to belong to anything false. That’s why we

dance like maniacs. We know somewhere out there the lost
and lonely are crying in an all too familiar voice
for merciful justice. That’s why we sing out loud, we
prance in bright laughing colors, we climb impossible reflected buildings,

we jump and jive,we dive with blue whales,we
rock and roll.The sound we make is our beacon.
We send it out because it’s free with our love.

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Lovelies on the Beach by Darryl Price

On the surface of the sand

or rolling out of the sea’s
open palms like little sleepy diamonds
they all look the same, some

different colors,some different sizes, but
the more you look at them
they seem to differentiate. More and

more come in all the time
and by then one can’t help
but start to feel a sense

of lonely loss for them, half
buried in the sand like remnants
of another civilization beyond the waves.

The Sleepwalker as Map, the Map as Sleepwalker by Darryl Price

It doesn’t matter what it was the middle of. It took each and every one by the nose away from where we were standing but it didn’t disappear us, except as one ink might disappear dissolving into another. We stained each other’s lives like squirting grape juice. Even the breakdown of the precious paper molecules appeared to be just another secretly written out chart to unknown locations just outside the present situation’s experience. Sometimes the map presents itself as you go. Look.  All you had to do was to walk quietly deeper and deeper into the places that you dreamed until you arrived back in your own hometown, another summer come and gone. Suddenly we were colorful again. That made us both laugh.

Little Worlds by Darryl Price

Little worlds got up as usual and stretched her crampy palms into a tiny shove against the big fat day already trying to sit on her face that usually meant nothing more than that she could use three more minutes of camping next to her dreams because she thought she saw something slightly unusual bobbing out on the river’s edge and she really should check it out as it just might prove to be important to the future’s hours after all.