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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 )
 
   
 
 

from flow to flee

foto by smith
foto by smith

can’t sleep, so sit in stuffed chair in dark, by open window, listening to rain fall in the night. the rain hits the trees, roof, grass, bushes, flowers, garden with different rhythms, beats, tones. a soothing, cleansing tune. water sounds heal, calm, take one on mental trips around the mind. i can believe in the possibility of inner peace when i listen to water. water we were, again will be.

we’ve had special sounds each place we’ve been. frequently around the world it has been the day long crow of roosters, a sound i associate with innocence and freedom from being raised on a farm in the pacific northwest of the u.s.of.a. here in our love shack out back we have the mournful wail of trains. i used to lie in the dark in mullan idaho as a youth and yearn to be with the wailing trains down in the valley below going anywhere but where i was. trains have always suggested better, other, maybe even somewhere i’d fit in for once.

been in america 3 weeks now – 3 weeks of poetry and art events and socializing with people. out of those 21 days, i’ve had 2 days with no social events. i’m a person who finds 12 people events a year 11 too many. but i’m doing it, putting up with it, enduring it for lady – this is her time, and she still believes in the healing inspirational power of people. she has an innocence i’ve lost along the way. i hope for good, expect bad, and am rarely disappointed.

i must admit people do inspire, fill one’s creative data banks with new ideas, new thoughts, new poems, new art. but people take so much time, and are so totally frigging alien other to my brain. they suck psychic energy from me in my inept attempts to socially interface with them. i feel their need and it eats me.

5-7 weeks before we leave the country again. we find we’ve a joyous anticipation for mexico – or below. right now we’re heading for oaxaca, the lower part of mexico in the mountains near guatamala and belize. we’re heading for lands of magic names, ancient civilizations.

on the obverse side of civilized, i received a spam email with the subject line “Happy moments with my girl ooze.” wow – that’s zen porn. endless possibilities flutter through my mind. so many juices and sluices to ooze.

but, what makes human scum think they’ve the right to flood my e-mail box with their faux flesh sluts and small penises, drug offers and false stock options? probably the same sort of bottom feeding gene pool slime thinking cheney and bush engage in as they murder one million plus iraqis. the bible says those who live by the sword shall perish by the sword, so how come those two are still unperished? what’s the time limit on just retribution? how come the rich always take and are never took, the powerful do and are never done unto? the bible always seems a bit vague on that part. justice is as justice does, but justice never seems to operate on any just time line.

this is smith from the tarnished dark underside of the mirror trying to report the distortions through the distortions. i wonder, do we ever ever ever get to see cleanly, clearly, crisply? do we ever find peace, or truth?

such slings and arrows, mostly slung by ourselves at ourselves.

foto by smith
foto by smith

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