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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 )
 
   
 
 

Archive for October, 2017

the lady & the doors van morrison

Sunday, October 22nd, 2017

When I walk, my right arm thumps against my side, large, hard, like a massive weight lifter’s appendage, but this hard and heavy isn’t from exercise but rather swollen flesh protesting the knives and saws and pryings screwings bruisings of my second shoulder replacement.

Major change in pain pill philosophy. My two days in the hospital they gave me three 5 mg oxycodone pills every 4 hours, sometimes tossing in an injection of dilaudid as well. So one day in hospital was 24 pills. They released me with a prescription for one pill every six hours, or 4 pills per day. Fortunately this time it’s all low level pain, so I can manage. Bit hypocritical of them though.

~

Conversation with Wife 38

“Is penultimate the power of the pen?”
she ponders.

“Our salad was good,
the goat cheese, red onions and apples had synergy.”
Original synergy?

What’s choux?
“I think it’s an eggy dough.”
Didn’t Eggy Dough record with Iggy Pop?

“OK, you know what…” she starts.
I used to know What,
I dated his daughter, young Why.
She was a handful.

“What are we going to do about these hurricanes?”
Change the name to himicanes, let em go impotant.

“You know who drove the Doors? – Van Morrison.”

Where’d the fun go?
“Down the funnel.”

 – Smith, 10.22.2017

 

shoulder arm

Monday, October 16th, 2017


my 7 day old right shoulder replacement w/ 24 staples

A recent poem by Lady K.

~

Dry yellow pages and cool glossy lithographs
sheep, pastoral scenes, assembled figures in stately robes
blood like wine from years like vines
a finger of oil poured on the head and similar pastimes
of ancient lamps, mirrors and perfections
or the confused castings of blank arrows
side glances of Rubenesque faces
noble lips that pick at berries

Almonds from rods
nocturnes, starlight, sand and the purity of a concept of water
just trickles slacken thirst

God takes respite low in a cave, cool dirt clean feet
listens to Mother Earth sing fecundity’s forgiveness
speak low thunder
wild pagan violin

– Lady, 19.14.2017




 

downwatch

Friday, October 13th, 2017

Spirit, Bone, Body, Mind

Spirit and bone, bone and spirit –
which the rein, which the stirrup?

Bone in body, body round bone –
which one jester, which one throne?

Right hand laughs as left goes long
cuz nothing’s right, nothing’s wrong,

Two left feet or lack of spine?
Neither one’s a crime.

Mind or brain or mental gain
depend on aim of game.

Your multiple choice questions –
don’t leave answer, just suggestion.

– Smith, 10.13.2017

 

chopped & channeled

Monday, October 9th, 2017

Life with Wife 6

My wife’s out with two lesbian friends
while I’m at home.
Am I worried?
No.
For though I am a lousy lover,
I still make her laugh.

– Smith, 10.8.2017

~ ~ ~

Chopped & Channeled

I.

Back into the body shop
tomorrow
this time to slice open right shoulder,
cut a few muscles,
pry aside others,
screw a ball joint to my cup joint,
cut ball joint off arm bone
and jam a cup joint in its hollow
so shoulder’s upside down,
release some muscles,
sew others,
close up surface,
keep me overnight,
send me home
with new cobalt and chrome shoulder
to go with
my other cobalt chrome shouder,
cobalt rods in neck,
and titanium ceramic hip.

Maybe get a job testing metal detectors
flor Homeland Thuggery
since I’ve already set some off
with just the hip
so I’d be neck and shoulders above the rest.

II.

Ir’s said
if you hurt, you’re alive.

I must be right lively then
considering my years and tears.

Though too much joy along the way
for sad to add to much.

– Smith, 10.9.2017

 

song & chance man

Wednesday, October 4th, 2017


Fear & Love in Los Cleveland
20″ x 14″ x 4″, 2010, Smith

A few shots of “Fear & Love in Los Cleveland” from 2010 I did for a Shawn Mishk show at Doubting Thomas Gallery.

~

Could be turning this into a song; friend sez he can write some 12-bar blues for it. So, somewhere down the timeline…

Slow Talkin’ Blues

Well I talk to myself
I answer too
yes I talk to myself
and answer too
no one understands
why I do what I do

Moon up high
covers cold cold ground
yes moon up sky
casts no warmth down
if I don’t talk to myself
won’t be no sound

It’s said the Devil’s tongue
packs a wicked wit
while an angel’s wings
don’t always fit
some further heaven
some feather pit

Folk yak at me
their words got no life
folk flap their if
make whole buncha strife
so I gotta ask
why you spout such tripe?

You got a mouth
even a mom won’t kiss
your crap smothers
all kinds of bliss
why you wanna
muck around like this?

I gotta say
things aint quite right
too many stray
in lack of light
yet you say go way
tend my own blight

If I don’t talk
there ain’t no sound
just endless walk
round this nowhere ground
but when I do
I sound like a clown

– Smith, 10.4.2017







Fear & Love in Los Cleveland
20″ x 14″ x 4″, 2010, Smith

 

ache of break

Sunday, October 1st, 2017

Philosophy 167

Many paths.
Many mountains.
Many valleys.
Many steps.

Yet one.

~

Philosophy 168

Hope to outgrow
what I cannot outrun.

The ache of break
from dream to wake.

– Smith, 10.1.2017

 

 
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