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Archive for November, 2017


Saturday, November 25th, 2017

Hands clasped over bewildered head
bent no’ing over the wiped and weathered tableau
which bore its fresh risen bread within the
brand name of the United States

The ten commandments
read off a carton of Pall Mall’s,
sheriff’s medal is mine; ours
immigrants pearling barb wire
irritation immured in the
intimate knowledge of
cowboy stories wandering
native goldenrod

Auntie Em’s fence stands in
remnant against the opaque puff
of redoubled dough

Hoping for a mandalic order of lace edges,
a November drive through the charming chaos
of Grandma Moses’ quilt

A blue torn paper sky
cracker white lining
sun down red

Amnesty prayer flag
clapboard, paint and picket fence

~ Lady


just cuz it is don’t mean it is

Wednesday, November 22nd, 2017


Just cuz a field’s been picked
don’t mean it’s empty

I ain’t got much left to leak
getting low on go

Losing meek but moving too slow
to win end-ribbon treat

Just cuz you don’t want to
don’t mean you shouldn’t

Looking through the recipe book
to see how I measure up

Either an empty or half-full cup
depending on how you look

Just cuz it is
don’t mean it is

– Smith, 11.22.2017


getting from sleep to sleep

Monday, November 20th, 2017

Master Plan 2

I got through today.

That’s my long term goal these daze –
to get through the day.

Used to be fame and fortune.

Now it’s getting from sleep to sleep
without being a creep
to others
to earth
to me.

Somewhat easier
sez the unknown poet
with the no bank account.

– Smith, 11.20.2017


in seep of yesterday’s weep

Saturday, November 18th, 2017

Ritual Rebirth

First stroke – cannabis toke
second service – sip of caffeine
third – toke
fourth – sip


Gear engaged
cog converging
fog of wisp away

Now we wait for sun to rise
as today’s game begins again
in seep of yesterday’s weep

– Smith, 11.18.2017


frayed strings + long ago and far away + 2 collages

Wednesday, November 15th, 2017

Frayed Strings

The soundtrack without sound
in a movie never made

The apple of the paring
for the pie that wasn’t baked

The scratch of itch not coming
after sneeze aborts in air

The weight of daily drubbing
knowing fair is never fair

Final stride at end of day
which began with one at dawn

The learning from your “betters”
that you’re not even pawn

Looking in the morning mirror
hoping not to see an ass

The pocket ever empty
weighing wallet’s minus mass
– Smith, 11.15.2017

Have a poem published yesterday on John Grochalski’s WINEDRUNK SIDEWALK: SHIPWRECKED IN TRUMPLAND —


bone hole

Monday, November 13th, 2017

Bone Hole

You have a house,

its floor may be dirt, wood,
tile, concrete, glass, or higher class,

and if there are walls
they may be solid
may be holey

your might-be roof
or might-not-be roof
may work
may drip
or leak light

and there’s too much to do
too many knot-wads

so you start on locks,
and windows, and rugs,
and furniture, and mortgages,
and driveways

yet you don’t know the neighbors,
can’t nip your own nubs
as you run to not fall
hopimg future’s failure annulls

you can make it better
you can make it worse
the glory’s yours, so’s the curse

– Smith, 11.13.2017


dead daddy Doubt

Thursday, November 9th, 2017

Sisyphus at the Psychiatrist

So many rocks to rock and roll
there’s the rent rock
the car rock
the food rock
the cut and fix the flesh rock
the skin color rock
the bully rock
the cock rock
talk rot
mock rock
race rock
and of course the ought not rock
so I wake at night,
cry for missing mommy Entropy
and dead daddy Doubt,
mess my bed with wet of sweat
from cultural courted stress
more or less moralless,
and rage at rock
as I false
rekindle hope of besting slope.

– Smith, 11.9.2017



Tuesday, November 7th, 2017

Conversation with Wife 39

Wife comes in looking for scissors and twine.
What are you searching for?
“I need to truss the bird.”
You can’t trust birds, they’re foul.

What’s the controversy with Porgy & Bess?
“It’s seen as white guy condescendence.”
Is that where dew collects on flowers?
“No, that’s condensation.”
Like a person becoming famous?
“That’s sensation.”
Oh, original sensation! The Garden of Eden!
“You never stop, do you?”

– Smith, 11.7.2017


serial solar recycle

Monday, November 6th, 2017

Sisyphus Prime

In dark before dawn
clutching cup of hot black coffee
poised between was and will
not quite is
licking wounds
weighing pain
seeing how much grass is left
to ease me through
the three reals of time
before the rock
during the rock
after the rock
and as always
the hill
the rise
the mountain
the sweat unsweet
doing today yesterday
tomorrow today
now now
now being walk to work
push up hill
drag back home
to repeat unnecessary
serial solar recycle

– Smith, 11.6.2017


leap sleep to sleep without the weep of wake

Saturday, November 4th, 2017

Status Report 260

I got goals:

Wake, get through day,
make it to tomorrow

Without too much sorrow
to myself, earth, or others.

Once walked for fame,
worshipped fortune,

Now simply thankful I’m not lame
or hardened.

Though am sad and weary,
cynica,l leery,

Yearn to leap sleep to sleep
without the weep of wake.

But there’s a silver lightning,
I keep wife’s stress from tightening,

And hold her when she wobbles,
am her favorite bauble.

– Smith, 11.4.2017


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