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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 )

mountain high, coffee deep

Cherries, a Zapotec coffee cat – foto by smith

away four days. come home to long list of myspace blog friends to read. bit overwhelming, but i feel if folk read me, i need to read them to keep the two-way going. getting hard to do. so much time, too much life.

had several goals this mountain coffee picking trip:
1) not take any herb with me, so i’d have 4 days straight. did it.
2) drink but 1 cup of coffee a day when i returned. doing it.
3) not smoke before 5. made it to 4 yesterday. consider that major success. was starting at noon. do better tomorrow.

Lady K’s in bed, sick, miserable. her 3rd attack of amoeba dysentery in 3 months. she’s been sick at least 7 of the past 12 weeks. the only down-side of loving someone this much is you feel helpless when they’re sick and can’t make them better. perhaps it’d be best to kill them so they don’t suffer. but then, who alive knows if we suffer after death. it could be worse over there, could be better, could be nothing. i’m hoping for nothing, so i have peace. if there’s duty, pain, responsibility, or suffering on The Other Side, then they’d best get ready to defend their barcodes cuz i’m tearing the frigging place down once i arrive. ain’t playing cosmic games i don’t sign up for. if i have to suffer for being human, then i’m doing my suffering now – i already have a darn good start at it. suffering twice would be double jeopardy, and that’s a sick god fool game.

~ ~ ~

Lady K email to madmaxman:

I’m gonna flood the world with my pees. Urination salvation.

Mmmm… consumption. I got the gumption to eat steak. I want to get a grill, too. I’m gonna eat and eat and eat until there are no more animals. I want animals shaped like hot dogs and hamburgers too. I want animals on a stick, too. Stick and spit and chew.

Actually I’m feeling guilty and considering total comprehensive veganism. I do this sometimes. Poor Smith is being subjected to multiple meals of black bean burgers, which according to him are no substitute for dead beefs.

Little girls are seeds that grow into this world and get turned by the weather & gravity & childbearing into woman creatures.

– Lady K

and this morning’s coffee poem:

Making morning
Bubbling buoyant clouds of boiling coffee
A thing of beauty

– Lady K

(that’s a haiku on strong mountain coffee steroids)

~ ~ ~

getting tired of my own words but words keep spilling so so do i. hard habit to break. not sure i want to. words keep me close to sane. i like the haiku cuz you can say lots with less and look beatnik cool while doing it.

i read that the traditional Japanese haiku counts sounds, not syllables, even though they are frequently the same. but a word like “sign” would have a 3 sound count – 2 for “sigh-n,” and one for the hard ending. glottals also get extra sound count, as do pauses. so to be true to the traditional haiku spirit, they recommend 10 to 14 syllables instead of 17. the three-line 5-7-5 syllable break is artificial as well – they were originally written in one continuous vertical line on scrolls. and weirdly, the plural of haiku is haiku – the Japanese often have words which don’t differentiate between singular and plural.

my own definition? – haiku is the silent sound of one monk sneezing.

here’s day two haiku.

Coffee Picking 2, Day 2

Burro brays. Cock cries.
No sun. Cloud over mountain.
Mist flows through valley.

Above wet. Below wet.
Trees drip in sky water cloud.
And where is the sun?

Up the mountain: East.
On the mountain: life, love.
Down the mountain: West.

Crawl from covers. Cold.
Don two sweaters and a hat.
I await coffee.

Grind corn. Grind coffee.
Wear away back, muscles, heart.
Free soul for rising.

Poke banana tree
with sharp stick until it bows.
Harvest the bounty.

Flesh sore. Bone weary.
We pick coffee all the day.
Climb mountain at night.

Walking up mountain.
nam myoho renge kyo
Up and up and up.

Walk and walk up hill,
Sisyphus without the rock.
Wait – I am the rock.

Laughter at dinner.
Food shared with people and drink.
I am not alone.

dawn bird outside our hosts’ kitchen window – foto by smith

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