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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 )


steve, asleep (foto by Lady)

I do believe. I do. I believe we’re doing the very best thing for ourselves. I owe faith, hope and joy to Steve. Never thought life could be like this, not even in my dreams.

Life in Europe: saturated, other, real, vast, colorful. Me: here in the now, dreaming about the past – in Cleveland – at night. Disconnected at night, connected during the day.

One of Steve’s favorite Bob Dylan lines: “those not busy being born are busy dying.” He briefly considered buying the new album, and then declined. (We’d have to give it away. Almost everything we own has to be carried on our backs. Except for some art which is in 3-year storage in Cleveland.)

Spent much of the morning walking along, stopping to pick up odd metallic objects from the road. People probably think we’re weird (we are) but we’re picking this stuff up to make art. I have four things I’m working on. Metal is best because it rusts.


I’m cooking, cooking, cooking. We have full run of the kitchen. For 6 weeks in the U.S. we lived in a friend’s cottage, and it was too hot and too cramped to cook. So I’m in my glory in the kitchen.

There’s tons and tons of Indian food here. So most of what I cook is some Indian curry out of a can. I saute tons of veggies in addition to the meat and I add fresh cilantro.

This house is awesome. The people who own it are TV journalists. Before we arrived, I expected some type of immaculate house with all kinds of expensive furniture.

But the house is so cool. It’s got old wood floor planks and old wooden furniture. Everything’s comfortable. The front door of the house enters directly into the kitchen. It’s full of exotic spices.

The owners have three shelves of travel books. I’ve rummaged through them, trying to learn as much as possible for the next couple years.

I look forward to meeting them. Perhaps they can give us clues, tell us where we can travel cheaply.

They have to be pretty cool people to let us move in here for a month without having met us. I did send them a reference and a deposit, but still, that’s pretty darned relaxed.


Have thought about Katie Daley a bit in the past couple days. Came across her zebra striped pant legs when looking for a poem in an old issue of my city e-zine. I’d taken that photo at the Algebra teahouse, a week before Daniel Thompson died. He arrived at that party so very alive, and then he was gone, just like that.

I actually think about Katie quite often. She’s a role model. Katie and Denise Dee and Wendy Shaffer. I love her story poems, especially the one about picking cherries. I love that she has traveled in non-conventional ways to foreign lands, and that she is open and friendly to people, and that she listens and interacts.

I admire Denise Dee for her total self-assurance, self-reliance, and – counter-intuitively – her reliance on other people.

Denise was in Cleveland for less than a year, and in that time she organized poetry and music events. (Currently, Denise is co-creator of Nerve House, a national art & literature magazine.) She also was not afraid to ask for what she needed from people on the Cleveland Poetics board. She taught me that reliance on other people is actually a form of self-reliance. That the creative community is a real community, a family, a human bank.

katie daley's legs (foto by Lady)

3 Responses to “Dreamers”

  1. sistrsoulskatr says:

    Crazy zebra legged poet women running ahead to scout and keep the faith. I remember that night., and didn’t know you yet! Daniel liked chasing after zebras.

    (for MadM)
    What now, TAR?
    Your gap tooth smile memory shines under bridges and other bad dental work and makes me grin

    Thanks for all the spices you left me, K-
    Our kitchen smells like the best of India

  2. Lady says:

    Algebra teahouse: we’re all pieces in this puzzle. At that time I was alienated. I removed myself from this puzzle, this human family. People seemed strange, full of secret knowledge I didn’t share.

    I like the idea of all these puzzle pieces becoming known to me, and my figuring out that I’m just another puzzle piece. I’m not above it or below it. I fit into it, though, and that’s just fine.

    Good to get to know you Beth, and good to know that our history meshed that night.

    I wonder how many other strangers will become friends?

  3. The Dalai Lama is quoted as saying something like since we have all met before in infinite previous lives, he never meets strangers, just somebody new for this lifetime. Or somesuch thing like that. Errors are all mine.

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