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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 ‘Poetry’ Category

conversation with wife #35

Tuesday, August 8th, 2017


my gal is red hot

Conversation with Wife 35

I’m going to bill the webbots to read me.
“What, charge them some electrons?”
Yeah, I’ll say gimme some valence!

“We need sugar, bread, milk.”
Wonder what the offspring of sugar bred milk
would look like?

“I’m addicted to caffeine.”
I’m addicted to cowffeine.
“It makes you MOOOOOve.”

“Paramour is such a strange word.”
I like the single mour rather than a pair a mours
a single lell rather than a pair a lells
a single mount rather than a pair a mounts
a single dice rather than a pair a dice.

How was your 3 mile run?
“I’m weak.”
I’m weekend.
“We’ll have to strengthen you.”

“Where’s my lipstick?”
In my pants?

“I really like Aldi’s.”
I only like some d’s….
small d’s are okay,
but I don’t trust the capital D’s.

Do you think canvas was invented in Kansas?
“No.”
Sure would take a lot to canvas a neighborhood.

“I love pirates.”
If a loan had 3.14% interest, it’d be a pirate.

“Wonder what the origin of the word meat is?”
Some cavemen, after he’d eaten his beastie
said, “Me ate.”

“Sounds like pneumonia.”
More like oldmonia, me being 71 and all.

“We’re quite a pair.”
I’m more apple.
“I’m glad you have a sense of humor.”
I have fifty cents of humor.

Thank you. We’ll be here all week.

– Smith, 8.8.2017


I ear you

 

hunt / play / survival

Monday, August 7th, 2017

Lizard Brain

Black cat in black night
crouched on sill in shadow
half hunt
half play
all survival

– Smith, 8.7.2017

 

life =

Friday, August 4th, 2017

Life = one over end

 

runble roll of train on track

Sunday, July 30th, 2017

Night Train

Sun slants its leaving light
as it slips to night
so rooster’s cry
brings cool of dawn

heat hugs
the rich moist
the poor hot
in salt wet sweat abide

runble roll of train on track
heads for crow of cock

– Smith, 7.30.2017

 

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″

 

2 pieces of my art, 49 years apart

Saturday, July 22nd, 2017


left: East of the Sun, West of the Moon
20″ x 16″, December 2015, Smith
right: Voodoo Lounge, 1968, 20″ x 30″, Smith

Two of my art works, 49 years apart.

Fotos above are
East of the Sun, West of the Moon, December 2005
and
Voodoo Lounge, my first wall piece, 1968.
The blue is my mixture of copper corrosion. The action figure is Edgar Allen Poe with a raven on his shoulder.

Did my first piece of art in 1965. Still doing it.
First poem I still have is from 1964. Still doing it.

Going to try to post a piece or two every few days cuz folk have forgotten I do as much art as poetry.

The last solo Smith & Lady show was 2012 at the Mastroianni Gallery, titled Sacred Pulp – Two Dead Smiths, Two Live Smiths, featuring my dead mom Mother Dwarf (1926-2005), my dead brother Cat (1957-1987), my live wife Lady K, and me (current status enigmatic)

My brother Cat Smith blew his brains out at age 30 in the bed of his pickup due to too much alcohol, too much speed and coke, marriage problems, financial problems, the stress of trying to keep his and our father’s Brick/Block/Stone mason business going in light of Pappy’s decaying health, and maybe perhaps starting drugs too young – he was 11 when he first dropped acid in high school. I was 21 when I started drugs, had a chance to ripen before diving in.

Fair Trade

I don’t always turn the other cheek,
sometimes I slap back.

And I always forgive,
but never forget.

So beware,
fair is fair.

– Smith, 7.21.2017

Fotos below:
word piece is Voodoo Lounge, 1968, 20″ x 30″, Smith
blue piece is East of the Sun, West of the Moon
20″ x 16″, December 2015, Smith








Fotos above:
word piece is Voodoo Lounge, 1968, 20″ x 30″, Smith
blue piece is East of the Sun, West of the Moon
20″ x 16″, December 2015, Smith

 

Life in the Smith Lane

Tuesday, July 18th, 2017

Life in the Smith Lane

Crickets creep between cars
in not quite night
their soothing sound attending ghost
of then and them and now
matching most of me somehow

Saw an I-90W sign saying
“Drug Activity / Impaired Driving
Call This Number”
so I did
said I was interested in some drug activity…
it didn’t go well

Roads outside this window
goin’ places doin’ things
with a lot less cussin’
and fussin’ and cheatin’ moan
that’s where I wanna roam

Late at night
we drive into deep wood
to camp way off grid
nada on GPS screen
gas near empty
next morning turn wrong way
go further into no-one-home land
fuel light starts cursing
the film Deliverance runs in my mind
so we give up
turn around
retrace tracks
finally find gas
and small town library with wifi
get go again
add new rule to list:
don’t wait to tomorrow
to refill strange territory today

Friday – $350 for muffler
Monday – $550 front wheel bearings
Nowday – pain anguish anger depression
there goes the rent money
and my marijuana

White line black top
pedal metal heavy through
go of tomorrow
awash in sorrow
and chance

– Smith, 7.18.2017

 

Which coming kiss or curse

Saturday, July 15th, 2017


bladerunner

Balance

Day and night come and go
wet dances with dry
old seeps through new.

The dead outnumber us
feed the living
canceled checks.

I still take new day’s step
most hopeful, and yet
look for the lance.

Which coming kiss or curse
or hug or worse
will decide my stance?

– Smith, 7.15.2017


e-line

 

Sisyphus After All

Thursday, July 13th, 2017

Sisyphus After All

It’s not all rock
there’s the exquisite relief of quitting time
dragging dead flesh twixt hill and home
to swallow cold food
before tepid bath and bed
and the dreamless ache of sleep
where eyes closed in dark
wake in same dark
at alarum’s croaker cry
to rise again
stack old bones on new pains
then limp to manual mountain
and hope against logic for gain

– Smith, 7.13.2017

 

invisible patty-cakes on the Zen back of night

Tuesday, July 11th, 2017


got it locked away

Happy Sandwich

Beauty’s the butterfly of age,
age the flower of youth.

Catching up to the rat wheel
takes money, time, desire,
and I’m short all three.

Invisible patty-cakes on the Zen back of night,
or the sad middle notes of an old 50’s song?
Both fine soundtracks
for yet another Walking Monkey Production
(believe it’s the old-timers with Alzheimer’s
who’re running the show).

Still, the setting sun climbs the tree
lays along its leaves
and watches layered light
sink slow below the surface
of our 3rd floor Victorian window
and I feel eased.

Go eased, young ma’am, go eased.

– Smith, 7.11.2017

 

 
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