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WALKING ON THIN ICE

sun, moon, bee

July 18, 2008 2 Comments

cleveland bee on Chiplis’ sunflower – foto by smith

fortunate son

i’m a lucky man. i’m where i want to be (oaxaca mexico), i’m with the person i want to be with (the shady lady k), i’m loved by the one i love (see previous parenthesis), and i’m doing what i want to be doing (writing, creating, having adventures).

on the unutterable side, my body’s in constant daily pain, while my inner self is aflame in anguish and anger over the way humans treat each other and the earth, the current criminals in the white house, and the bottom scum sucking slimes in congress. all i see on the international scene are blood, greed, ego, theft, meanness, and murder.

i’m also sadly ticked at Dell Computer’s laptops for their defective batteries. the batteries overheat and turn the laptops off without warning – i just lost half my blog. the batteries heat up so much it’s impossible to hold the laptop in your lap – rather defeating the product purpose. this is my second battery, and lady had to throw her laptop away and buy a Compac instead. this is the perfect example of the corporate mentality – screw the customer as often and in as many ways as possible. (just for the record, we bought Inspiron B130 laptops from Dell – the batteries get so hot i’ve taken to toasting sandwiches with them while typing. do not try this at home alone.)

but if you add the inner and outer worlds together, i am one fortunate son of a one. the world may suck, but my own corner is golden sunshine and bright in smiles and laughter – thanks to Lady and luck.

Stormy Weather

Whether for wonder bred or welfare bread
Flesh is ego manifest in the palm of paradigm


moon over ohio flowers – foto by smith

STOCHASTIC RESONANCE/TODAY’S TELEPATHIC PHENOMENON

July 18, 2008 No Comments

Red Smith – Photo by Lady

I feel left behind on our couch. I look through the doorway into the kitchen. Vague shadows shift from around the corner, assemble themselves into Smith, who manifests in the doorway, holding a half avocado skin. “You know what this is?”
   “Avocado skin?”
   “Ash tray,” he states. I laugh. “Excellent!”
   He walks to the kitchen, sits down on his nylon rope chair, lights half a joint, cradles the avocado skin in his left hand. He looks aimless. I wonder, Why is he sitting out there rather than in here, with me? I want to know every quantum instant of his thinking process.
   “I can see you looking through space at the door but I can see you’re not seeing the door,” Smith says, “so I need a way to see what you see inside. I’m gonna have little revolving mirrors installed all inside your head. They’ll twist and turn so I can catch your thoughts. Then I’ll have to have a little antennae come off the top of your skull to transmit the thought image to me.”
   “Why you so interested?”
   “We spend so much time together, we’re a collaborative team. I need to know your thoughts, your dreams, your schemes, your themes.”
   “Well I’m glad I’m also of such infinite interest to you.”

home is where the happy is

July 17, 2008 No Comments

mexican carrot on our window sill – foto by smith

we’re back in the land of hugging, holding, touching, kissing and smiling. left cleveland ohio 6 yesterday morning, landed in oaxaca 3 planes, 1,946 miles, 10 hours later. our smoothest, quickest long journey yet. it’s as if we’re supposed to be here, and reality welcomed us back with a lack of snafus and a plethora of serendipity – like when we dropped the rental car off at 4:30 in the morning in the dark and found the airport shuttle bus waiting for us.

no time in our two week visit to have a big juicy life & planet threatening hamburger, but did have a cup of starbucks just before we left houston – by the time we took off, i was moving faster than the plane. folks worried about drug use should investigate starbucks: we’re talking caffeine with a serious C here. the Big C may be cancer, but the biggest C is but one Venti away.

this is the 7th country we’ve returned to – flew into england 4 times, 1 plane 1 train to france, 1 plane 1 bus 1 car to croatia, 1 car 1 bus to italy, 2 trains to spain, 2 planes to the u.s.a. and 2 to mexico. happy to be home.

things are easier the second time around. this time we knew the tricks, such as having to slip from international in-terminal to domestic out-terminal in mexico city. it especially helps to have done it before when the game and ever-changing rules are in a foreign language. this is true in love as well. as sinatra sang, love is lovelier the second time around.

found a lot of stress, hostility, sadness, angry faces + heat and humidity in cleveland. but cleveland also has some of the nicest most creative folk we know, so it was a fair trade-off. cleveland also has the strongest, edgiest, most vibrant poetry scene in the 10 countries and 17-some cities we’ve lived in these past 2 years. ya wanna see what poetry can be, drop by the 2nd thursday reading in cleveland ohio at The Literary Cafe.

Reincarnation

How weary do I journey on my way
Travel metered not by mile but by day
Seeing naught of moment signing this way’s end
But instead the mending of my last way’s wend


early 1970s smith collage – foto by smith

kisses kisses cream kiss apple

July 16, 2008 No Comments

me, 1946 – foto by smith

leaving on a jet plane in the morning heading south of the border down mexico way. last time we went thataway it was to start a new life. this time we’ll be returning home to our mile high city in the Sierre Madre mountains with low humidity and temperate clime. and a happier people too. they’re poorer down there, but their lives seem richer, happier, more tranquil. of course i’m observing from the outside there and the inside here in the u.s.a.

but enough of that – can’t blog in the morning because we’re leaving before the cock crows, so here’s a silly ditty i wrote for lady.

Baked Apple Cream Kisses

Baked apple cream kisses for you my love
For your giggle wiggle wondrous why

Creamed apple baked kisses to you my dove
From your hair below to those above

Baked kissed apple cream I’ll then apply
To your skin within, without, and try

French kissing your wiggle giggle for I’ve
Apple creamed baked kiss in you my love

Head to toe side to side all the in between
Cream kissed baked apple in you my Queen


Lady with smith art tee-shirt (soon to be 4 sale) – foto by smith

as is was & will be

July 15, 2008 No Comments

sold as is – foto by smith

Lite Verse

We come from light
We go to light
But what a heavy in between


this will fail – foto by smith

Whethered Would

Old uneasy cockroach existence
Exilic, yet extant
Contingencies of space and time


smith for supreme court – foto by smith

know no

July 14, 2008 No Comments

Lady pool – foto by smith

been going to more social events than i think is logical, desirable, feasible, or sane. lady thanked me for being so giving, said “You know you can always say no, you don’t have to agree to go.” i explained it was easy to say yes to her for her because this is her time to soar, she has different needs to fulfill that i’ve done filled through my years and it would be a sin to deprive her. she’s 35 and exploding both artistically and in life adventure. then i told her “but i’m thinking of saying no, and may soon.” she replied, “And I’ll do what I was going to do anyway.” i like her attitude.

folk commenting on our blogs have been wondering lately why anti-government and anti-corporate blogs take longer to access – if you can get to them at all. it sounds paranoid, but i’ve also found the more a blog is against the government, the harder it is to open.

i thought of a possible reason why: the government’s probably tracking and tracing everyone who clicks on anti-government anti-corporate blogs – it’s their badly written bugging programs slowing us down. it’s been documented that facebook is c.i.a., so maybe myspace is c.i.a. lite.

the only thing saving us all is there are so many hundreds of millions of u.s. citizens disgusted with our government and the rapacious soul-killing greed of our corporatocracy that they can’t get at us all – they have too much info on too many people and not enough thugs to force feed their lies down our protesting throats. we have a government of the liars by the liars for the liars, of the corporations by the corporations for the corporations. and don’t get in their way or they’ll kill you and eat your young for dessert.

i apologize for saying anti-government and anti-corporate in the same sentence because government and corporation are two names for the same greedy evil.

National Debt

Huddled beneath behind
Green metal stalls
The tile encrusted
Yellow, he sews an
Empty money bag
To his crotch, watches
His reflection mirrored
In regimented urinals
   five six seven
Decaying down the wall
Cradling his existence
Fraying five to seven
In staid erotic fear
Small spider woven
Through uninforming ears
Tired of heaven he sews
His money to his crotch
He huddles


evil is as evil does – foto by smith

OVERWHELMED

July 14, 2008 No Comments

foto by Lady – Smith in Brandt Gallery basement

OVERWHELMED

My head hurts. Feels thick. My body is overly dominant. I am a thin sliver of being, numb spirit behind body.

Everything mental is too much effort. My priority is physical forward progression: eat, urinate, shower, cook, shop, leave the country. Mental is second.

I love writing just my thoughts, but it feels an indulgence. Before I sit down, I think, “Well, I should pick a particular topic and write about that.” But picking a particular topic seems too broad, like trying to hold the moon, the tides. I should’ve learned by now that I should just write what comes out, unbidden, my own spring, my bubbling forth, my font.

I have not much to say on other peoples’ blogs lately. I think, well, they’ve written a complete thought, there is nothing non-trivial I can add to it. Others’ blogs lately seem too much a daily dedication, and if I’m not even willing to give my *self* the respect of daily writing, a daily journal, why do I feel compelled to read others’ words and comment meaningfully?

Could be that I’m just so overwhelmed by this visit that I CAN’T comment substantially on others’ blogs right now. I hope y’all understand.

An example of what we’ve been doing almost non-stop for eleven days: yesterday I made curry for my parents’ visit at 1:00, they left at 4:30, I took a ten minute nap, one of Smith’s best friends and his family knocked on the door at 4:45, we walked over to an ice cream shop and park with them, returned by 6:30, my two good girlfriends came by at 6:35 to take me to a movie, and by this point I was so exhausted I could barely keep my eyes open, we watched the movie, and they dropped me off at home by 9:30. I’m trying to give everyone my full attention, really get the most out of this visit, but I just cannot be “on” socially for eight hour shifts day after day. In the past week went to four poetry readings to try and see as many friends as possible. Smith was so tired at one that he forgot most his lines, and I read my poems sans energy at the last two readings. Saturday night we went out to dinner with a dozen friends, and I felt that in my effort to try to connect with everyone, I short shrifted all. And then I worried about my ego: maybe my inclination to make everyone comfortable is a condescending, patronizing assumption.

blood flag

July 13, 2008 1 Comment

tomb of american honor – foto by smith

“These guys are the most crooked, you know, lying group I’ve ever seen. It’s scary.” – John Kerry on Dick Cheney & George W. Bush, March 11, 2004.

Kerry, a presidential candidate who has swam in this evil cesspool called u.s. politics for decades says bush&cheney are the worst he’s ever seen, while congressman Conyer’s report documents how the CheneyBush beast stole the 2004 election in ohio. and we all know how they stole the 2000 election in florida with the help of their house slaves on the supreme court. we’ve got known crooks, thieves, liars, traitors, draft dodgers, war criminal mass murderers in the white house, and nobody does anything about it. we lie down with filth, we awake with filth. americans have much blood on their hands – over one million murdered iraqi women, children, the innocent and the old. we’ve now murdered more people than all the world’s terrorists combined throughout history – and all for oil. vice-dick cheney and george “i-wish-i-had-a-brain” bush are al qaeda’s terrorist of the year, the terrorist’s employee of the year. if america is ever going to be able to pretend to be fair in the future, these two and their thug henchmen must be punished – they need to be tried, convicted, stripped of their stolen wealth, and left to rot in some city zoo cage where we can all stand around and mock them before throwing rotten vegetables and sharp pointed objects at them. may they run with scissors and fall.


blood flag – foto by smith

leaving for mexico in 3 days. we’ve got more stuff to take back than our backpacks will hold. for the first time in our travels we’re returning to a foreign home, and we want to take stuff to make life better and creation more productive – like the rest of my journals from 1968 through 1993, my dead brother Cat’s journals from the late 1970s early 80s, some collage material, poetry books, ArtCrimes, clothes, and spices.

been interesting being back, but it makes the daily pain from our fascist rulers more painful, distasteful. i wonder how many iraqi and afghani babies we will kill today? and you know it’s NOT a question of IF, just HOW MANY.


war criminal – foto by smith

leaf line

July 12, 2008 1 Comment

me, myself & lie – foto by smith

this excerpt from CRIMINAL has been rather well received. the two poetry venues i’ve read it in so far have laughed a lot – it’s from the Puberty chapter:

The doctor pulled my foreskin back over my penis head when I was nine. It hurt like heck since the foreskin had never been stretched before. Doc explained I had to wash under the foreskin every bath, or head cheese would develop. So I did. I washed it. A lot.

One night while reading and fondling my penis, I had my first climax. I didn’t understand what happened. No one told me about sex. All I knew was it was wrong to touch myself. I figured I’d broken something essential. Thinking it was God’s punishment, I wiped away the clear sticky goo, lay down in the dark, and waited to die.

Next morning, still alive, I touched it some more. Made it break again. I broke it over and over.

Few years later, doctor said, “Your left testicle has dropped considerably lower than your right. That’s usually caused by playing with yourself too often.”

I burned in shame, but kept on breaking my penis two or three times a day anyway. I must have had the most broke dick in town.


here n there – foto by smith

love bait – foto by smith

pre-prince – foto by smith

love shack out back garden – foto by smith

americana – foto by smith

heron – foto by smith

leaf line – foto by smith

sociopsycho

July 11, 2008 No Comments

cleveland fallen leaf – foto by smith

for a curmudgeon anti-socialite, i’ve been Mr People Meister 8 daze this week this peak into cleveland. i warned shady lady k i’m a psychopath with feelings, a sociopath with a conscience. she asked me not to bite anyone this time. so i look, listen, smile, and nod my head – leave my teeth unbared.

we’ve read our poetry in london england, krakow poland, oaxaca mexico, various places in the u.s., and our favorite high energy crazy place to read is The Literary Cafe here in cleveland ohio. last night was two excellent features followed by 23 open mic poets – and most everyone top to bottom were worth listening too. one woman sang an opera aria, another dude brought his guitar. two poets (the co-hosts) wrestled for the mic and both read simultaneously trying to shove each other away from the mic. even had a poem from a 6 year old girl.

we finally met Handsome Duke Deal a.k.a. David Smith from California – he was a featured reader. good to hear vocally someone i admire on the written page. good poet, good reader, and a good gentle human as well.

the energy at The Lit pulses with the drunken esoteric surreal ramblings and lying introductions of the mic host Nick Traenkner coupled with the Zen Beat humility of poet procurer Steve Goldberg. the bar owner Andy videotapes much of the evening’s poetry and posts it the next day on his website. it can be checked at http://literarycafe.net/blog/ – there are a couple videos in his archives of Lady and i reading there.

I’m For Falling

Whining want weeps
Its winning way
From fool tool TV
Via too much tit
And botoxed brain
Showing shallow twits
In xeroxed pain
Damn little give
Whole lotta take
Turning from sun
To burning lake

I’m for falling
Falling down
Falling through air
Calling cloud
Free from err
Free from want
From wanting more
Free of lust
Of money whore
Free to trust
The ever more


3 steps to heaven (for Eddie Cochran) – foto by smith