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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 the ‘Art’ Category

mapping mobius

Thursday, December 28th, 2017

Mapping Mobius

The acute angles
aren’t as attractive as they once were

Wife and I rise before dawn
to head start wend

Pain persists
but as they say, that’s life

We sit in dark and cold with cat
trying to remap wen

At least the coffee works,
first sip hot soothes old cold

We know now and new and soon
bring busted bits of when

Was is part of is,
now partitions next

We step in steps stepped before
on track unseen

Time inlaws to tomb,
and always wins

Mobius we go up and down
round around again

– Smith, 12.28.2017


2 leftover tidbits, 1 new tidbyte

Wednesday, December 27th, 2017

“Mingus Our Magic,” 4.5″ x 5″ x 1.5″
for Lady K., 12.24.2017

Piece in the fotos titled for poem I wrote Lady in our 10th week of relationship. I turned her onto Mingus, Yoko Ono, and Was (Not Was), and she turned me onto Gorillaz.



Mingus our magic
We mingle our meld both mode
And modality

– Smith, 11.21.2005


My December feature on Medusa’s Kitchen returns me to form – October and November were uneven, perhaps mindflux from shoulder surgery.


2 leftover tidbits, 1 new tidbyte:


Philosophy 168

We yearn for oneness
but since the Big Bang
we’re someness
underneath a box flap
pulling at the strings

– Smith, 12.22.2017


The Flu

One toilet
Two people
Four orifices

– Smith, 12.12.2017


Status Report 262

Cold and blow outside
but anti-inflammatory pills gone days ago
so I drive 8 blocks to hospital pharmacy

Leave ear warmer and scarf
cuz parking’s 2 minutes from door

But parking gate’s broken
won’t raise me in,
I’m waved away

I know this game,
Reality and I play all the time,
the let’s-mess-with-him
and see if he’s laugh or curse

Staying calm
I say Buddhist chant
bought 51 years ago in San Francisco for $6

Nam myoho renge kyo
right word, right thought, right action, right path

Drive halfway home to free street parking,
walk back through ice and howl and blow of cold

Get 90 1-a-day pills 8 cents each

Start back
staying inside long as I can
down deserted corridors of weekend hospital
the SLAP SLAP SLAP reminding me
my right sole is loose

(perhaps going to church 60 years ago
didn’t take as well as it might).

Check sole and see coat zipper undone
I re-zip it and the lower half unzips again

Pull coat over head,
force zipper unzip,
zip and watch unzip again

Snap snaps,
top 3 close,
bottom 2 broke
coat flops open catching cold

Hunched against biting wind
I scurry through storm
chanting and laughing

Reality’s joke,
but punchline’s mine

– Smith, 12.27.2017


sacred lies whispered within

Tuesday, December 19th, 2017

detail of Lady’s new sculpture

Status Report 261

So many people in the flow
so few in the know

they no yes
they no good
they no hope

they no know in slow slide round bend
where now becomes then

laying low lie
so story still floats
for eyes scarred by truth

sacred lies whispered within
to keep from killing ourselves, family, friends

– Smith, 12.19.2017


tidbit time

Wednesday, December 6th, 2017

Tidbit time.

10 fotos, 9 poems, 1 song at Medusa’s Kitchen in my 24th monthly feature – Kathy Kieth publisher/editor:

1 poem on Winedrunk Sidewalk, John Grochalsky publisher/editor:


Now that marijuana is being legalized state by state, one of the things I’m grateful for is my 50 years of smoking illegal weed. So many stories and adventures obtaining illegal smoke to toke, so many outlaws I’ve met.


“There were two trees in town, two cottonwoods in the dry riverbed, but one of them was dead.” – Joan Didion, Play It As It Lays, 1970.

This week I finally read some Joan Didion; a book of essays The White Album (1979), and a novel Play It As It Lays. Great writing, smart, and no happy – playing life as it’s often laid. Will read more.

“What are you tired of?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re getting there,” BZ said.
“Getting where?”
“Where I am.” – end of page 191 of 213, Play It As It Lays


Wrong Number

Phone got me out of bed.
Hung up before I got it.
Next morning in voicemail
a young young boy gleefully cries
“Merry Christmas”
and hangs up.
Not my Merry.
Not my Christmas.
5 seconds of shouted joy
down incorrect chimney.

– Smith, 12.5.2017


Upper Management

Why’s Lucifer got such a bad rap?
the dude just wanted to be Number 1

Kinda frustrating to be so bright
yet have to hide your light
cuz God don’t like no opening act

I mean there’s no room for advancement
if Top Dog’s always been Number 1
always be Number 1
never gonna retire
never gonna die

God punishing Lucifer for being Lucifer

Maybe he and Judas should sit down
with a good class action lawyer

– Smith, 12.5.201


Democracy by Regime

president—yrs office—indicted—convicted—prison
Richard Nixon – 5.6 / 76 / 55 / 15 – Republican
Ronald Reagan – 8 / 26 / 16 / 8 – Republican
George W. Bush – 8 / 16 / 16 / 9 – Republican
Donald Trump – 1 / 4 / 2 / 0 – Republican
Bill Clinton – 8 / 2 / 1 / 1 – Democrat
Gerald Ford – 2.4 / 1 / 1 / 1 – Republican
George H. W. Bush – 4 / 1 / 1 / 1 – Republican
Jimmy Carter – 4 / 1 / 0 / 0 – Democrat
Barack Obama – 8 / 0 / 0 / 0 – Democrat

– Smith, 12.5.2017


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


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 —


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


4 small Smith pieces 1996-2015

Tuesday, September 5th, 2017

Plot to Get Whitey, 1996, 9 x 11, Smith

Afterthought, 1996, 6 x 5, Smith

Limbic Rock, 2000, 9 x 12, Smith

Off Grid, 2015, 5.5 x 7.5, Smith


22 year art spread

Wednesday, July 26th, 2017

Afterthought, 1996, Smith, 6.25″ x 5″
Offgrid, 2015, Smith, 5.5″ x 7.5″
On the Beach, 2015, Smith, 11″ x 14″

3 pieces of art, over 22 years. The blue is copper corrosion (which is translucent), the brown dress patterns, brown-orange is rust.

Status Report 258

Sad sad song sung bad bad bad
the remains of the not quite making sense

The lines lie north and south of truth
shaped by serious shadow

Black cat, black curtain
the cloth has claws

– Smith, 7.26.2017

On the Beach, 2015, Smith, 11″ x 14″

Offgrid, 2015, Smith, 5.5″ x 7.5″

Afterthought, 1996, Smith, 6.25″ x 5″


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