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...and they lived happily ever after. Smith & Lady: poets, artists, photographers & adventurers.
Our relationship was forged to the soundtrack of Yoko Ono's magic,
frenetic, love-laden song, "Walking On Thin Ice." ( play song )
 
   
 
 

my October feature on Medusa’s Kitchen – 9 poems, 9 collages

October 22nd, 2018

My October feature at Medusa’s Kitchen is up, thanks to the generous heart and flowing eye of publisher/editor Kathy Kieth. I’m especially happy with this one – sometimes what you choose one month doesn’t read as well a month later when it appears, but this one flows right fine.

http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2018/10/sometimes-won-sometimes-lost.html


 

September feature of 9 poems 10 fotos on Medusa’s Kitchen

September 27th, 2018

My 34th consecutive monthly feature is online at Medusa’s Kitchen out in northern California, thanks to publisher/editor Kathy Kieth.

https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2018/09/used-ego-for-rent.html

My recent book “Where Never Was Already Is” consists of all the poems that appeared in my first 27 months on Medusa’s Kitchen… 324 pages, 244 poems, 29 illustrations, perfect bound, $15, 6″ x 9″ — http://ccpress.blogspot.com/2018/04/098Smith.html


 

6 Russell Atkins poems from Artcrimes

September 15th, 2018

This fall, Cleveland State University Poetry Center is publishing selected poems by Russell Atkins (1926), co-edited by poets Robert MacDonough and Kevin Prufer.

Atkins lost all his personal papers when he went into the hospital then assisted living years ago and the city tore down his house, so they are looking for any poems published in magazines or chapbooks.

They discovered 4 of his poems in Artcrimes # 7 (1989 edited by Chris Franke) and 2 in Artcrimes 11 (1991 edited by Ben Gulyas) – and of the 6, 4 were unknown to the editors.

If anyone knows of any other published Atkins poems, please let me know and I’ll pass it on.

Russell AtkinsWiki article – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Russell_Atkins

The 6 Atkins poems in Artcrimes — the blog editor deleted the special spacing from his poems and left justified.

~ ~ ~

Transit
by Russell Atkins

th’ baby came forward
with out-held arms
saying, ” — dah!”
to me?
I
knew a terror not to dare!
with fled I rushed
about the terminal
looking for things going now
like a bus for Canada —

a car’s approach:
“I need the swift of your help,”
I said, ” — a baby
with arms out-held!”

the driver said, “I dig!
(he knew the worst)
— let’s split

~ ~ ~

Backyard
by Russell Atkins

reaches about
and has hold
of the throats
of trees
— such shake it to death wild!

the snow octopus
widths into blizzards
of mists
then furiouses!
a dash through sky
flung tentacles
jet
full squid

~ ~ ~

Spring’s Generation Gap
by Russell Atkins

it takes evening
a long time to arrive — it
feebles (slow old man
still trying to hold down a job,
decrepit) forced to move fast
— janitor of the above offices!
he replaces things that
were used puts them in special
dark corners, closes shadows
into spaces like doors,
straightens, covers until
all seems gone
just before
youthful day comes to work
demanding, “Hey, dad —
— where the hell is everything?!”

~ ~ ~

Old Man Carrying A Bible In A High Crime Area
by Russell Atkins

Condense, will it? grow a barrel
for shooting?
flash open and spit God’s
electric al bullets, Leviticus
as the holy trigger – the thief
drops into hell? book develops
dimensions turned sanctuary
where no muggers plunder?
Does the dope fiend defer
to this, struck to a fix? will the book
in black, cleric vestment
convert loose women?

Old friend, listen: don’t wait
– when they come at you,
throw it at them!

~ ~ ~

Ninety Kilocycles
by Russell Atkins

Ever stuffed in that box living’s
claustrophobia’d surely, small
this harangue or abuzz’d of news
where miniature Savings & Loans
are robbed, where murder, as if betwixt dolls,
squeaks a gloom’d spider’s kept
spinning no matter what –
– to have everything in handfuls
is most convenient(even conscienced
by dials)
if someone leaps at end
from a vast height, it’s brought
between fingers of a mere hand
held for a minute, for a time
at this squat package of sounds
– when, quickly,
the button snaps off the world’s harsh
after its hush, sprung like a trap,
one imagines the rage goes on
within –

~ ~ ~

Public Square
by Russell Atkins

The light is at the back
it lets one know
it’s not for sure

as I’m amidst
this alit of a
chess’d up jut
long’d from by
shadows that ail

twilight’s haunt
is in appear‘’
downtown’s vaunt
is muted
so, half way
through some monstrous’d
abstraction
I sense but its
short-shrift
– things told
should be open
by now
to what is

turning


 

10 mail arts 1988 – 1995 – 2002

September 13th, 2018







5 mail art cards to Stone Ranger & Ann, 1988-1995



postcard to Pappy

s

art for Artcrimes #14, The Book of Fools, 8.93


art for Artcrimes #20, Sea of Forgetfullness, 7.02



postcard for Mother Dwarf


these 10 collages by Steven B. Smith


 

I candy

September 5th, 2018


 

7 most recent poems

August 27th, 2018

7 most recent poems:

2018.8.13 – Lizard Load
2018.8.14 – Status Report 274
2018.8.16 – Fuel for the Fire
2018.8.22 – Sermon of the Sum
2018.8.23 – Philosophy 174
2018.8.24 – Status Report 275
2018.8.25 – Status Quo

~ ~ ~

Lizard Load

Meatbag walking meatbag talking
meatbag grabbing what they will

Spermworm musing slick wet stalking
spirit shackled stone

Gotta eat, gotta sleep
clear that bone juice from inside

Mind delaying flesh composting
I am meat looking for mouth

~ ~ ~

Status Report 274

I hear stupid’s too stupid
to know it’s stupid
and I see stupid in the mirror sometimes
and wonder if I’m too stupid
to see him more often

~ ~ ~

Fuel for the Fire

We look through shadow
for sample of sun
for night is short-sight light
since apple was won
or lost
at dawn of good and evil

With eye for lie we live in blindness
sacrifice flesh for burn of righteousness

~ ~ ~

Sermon of the Sum

Got crutches for our crutches
lies to sell our soul
keep the wheel going
no matter what we know

Have to feed the monkey
with money on the make
it ain’t funny honey
if you lose more than you take

I know pre-chosen diction
certain aisles we should walk
in capitalistic infection
of altrustic balk

But then, no one asked me
if I wanted to join this messy
surreal comedy
where more is always less

So have no expectations
I know there’s none of mine
we are our own creation
somehow lay with lie

Eight-fold path
foretold thought
first is last
should would ought

~ ~ ~

Philosophy 174

Moon blood comes, moon blood goes,
moon blood stops, moon blood flows.

Life goes on, life stops,
sometimes won, sometimes lost.

~ ~ ~

Status Report 275

Running the red line —
stress
political anger
coffee
slightly modulated by weed
and budding Buddha heed

~ ~ ~

Status Quo

8 fish die
7 are born
we’re still in the game

4 hives dead
5th still going
6 months to go to know

72 years worry weary
getting wary wise
in wander

1 day polio
next day free Salk vaccine —

so no worry, we could all be saved by aliens


 

foto grafiks

August 21st, 2018


 

9 foto from ago

August 16th, 2018


 

9 fotos

August 15th, 2018


 

scraps and crap

August 9th, 2018

Someone asked for my black bean soup recipe. This is a first for me.

Smith’s random black bean soup

3 segments of garlic
1 very large onion or 3 smaller ones
3 carrots
4 stalks celery

chop the above, add to large pan with 1/3 cup olive oil
and saute

add tablespoon ground cumin, black pepper, some smoked salt

add large can diced tomatoes. 3 cans of black beans with juice
3 caps sherry, 1/3 cup miso, 1/2 cup black beluga lentils,
1 container vegetable broth, msg if desired
bring to low boil

lower flame and simmer for 1 hour

take 1/4 of it and put thru a blender
add back in
add chopped green onions, chopped cilantro, chopped parsley,
and some frozen corn
bring to low boil, lower flame to simmer
and slow cook for an hour

~

I have a foto on new Crisis Chronicles Press book cover.
https://ccpress.blogspot.com/2018/08/howey099.html

~

And here’s my July feature on Medusa’s Kitchen thanks to publisher/editor Kathy Kieth… this is my 33rd consecutive month: http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2018/07/wolf-parts-poems-and-visuals-by-smith.html

~

We all blind ourselves.

“Where you come from is gone.
Where you thought you were going to weren’t never there.
And where you are ain’t no good unless you can get away from it.”

You want strange? Comedy? Absurd? The Church of Christ Without Christ?

Then you need “Wise Blood,” from 1979, the movie John Huston made from Flannery O’Connor’s first novel (1952). With Brad Dourif and Harry Dean Stanton.

I saw the movie at the Cedar Lee when it came out 39 years ago and was wondering if it could possibly be as good as I remembered. Finally found it again (on Filmstruck). It is. 5 stars out of 4.

~

Another Filmstruck film – His Kind of Woman, 1951, Robert Mitchum, Jane Russell, Vincent Price, directed by Richard Fleischer (although uncredited, he redid the film after John Farrow’s failure) – a film noir of piranhas in a pool fighting over whom to eat – I used to see these as entertainment, but today realized they’re education, prophesy, life as it’s actually lived — we’re all meat, just looking for a mouth.

~

Wine More Than Women

Dead poets sing tall towers
of empty icing,
of love without helping,
love without caring,
love without sacrifice,
love without being there,
of loving land more than people,
people more than person,
strangers more than family,
of women who wait without complaint
while men fight wars,
drink wine,
cry.

This is not poetry,
this is not love.

This is masturbation,
this is licking one’s self in the mirror.

Love is changing diapers,
love is getting up before dawn and going to work,
love is not eating the last piece of pie,
love is looking, watching, sharing,
caring.

Love is not thumping chest,
love is not beating brow,
love is not patriarchy,
love is not lies.

Their poet love is empty love,
self love,
love of sound and whistle
minus meaning.

Love is dirty,
love is work.

Love is worth it
when you’re worthy.

As is poetry.


 

 
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