AD.

WALKING ON THIN ICE

Godot Waiting


Sky time – foto by Smith

Godot Waiting

“Take your time.”

“But time is an illusion, doesn’t exist.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Take two illusions and call me in the morning.”

— Smith, 7-12-2011


Shadow time – foto by Smith

The it it is


Dawn – foto by Smith

Prayer to No-God

Thnx 4 helping me deal with this.
Thnx 4 there being this this to deal with.

— Smith, 7-11-2011


You decide – foto by Smith

What’s in it for Me?


Cat sill – foto by Smith

What’s In It for Me?

Can’t count on reason
Can’t count on intention
Can’t count on destination
Can’t count on accumulation
Can’t count on actualization
So it’s the living
The life along the way
Friends, family, feline
That makes or breaks
The bank

— Smith, 7-10-2011


Space time Lady place mind – foto by Smith

Charity


Plenty – foto by Smith

Charity

We don’t have much
Not enough for mouth to month
But wife gives of what we have
To others with less

The poor are more gracious than the rich
Who give bigger
From their greater
Yet matter less

There’s pain in giving
There’s pain in not giving
She’s priming the pump
Betting on living

— Smith, 7-9-2011


The land of plenty (for a few) – foto by Smith

Money Honey


Money for a change – foto by Smith

Money Honey

Checkbook is empty
My pen is dry
Bills due tomorrow
Bloody turnip I cry

— Smith, 7-8-2011


All that glitters – foto by Smith

Lifecycle


Zen when – foto by Smith

Last night I started the poem below with “maggot” in the first line. This morning I see a white maggot crawling across our kitchen floor so I sweep it up and toss it out the window, then look in my trashcan and see it’s coated with creepy crawly albino maggots writhing away in ecstasy. Flush them all down the toilet. I respect life, take bugs outside to release them and only kill flies and mosquitoes that won’t leave me alone, but maggots are a life beyond my zone of respect . . . something primitive and atavistic about them. Feel the same way about spiders, except I don’t kill spiders.

Last night maggot was a word in a poem — this morning they’re reality. Who says poetry doesn’t have power.

Lifecycle

You’re a maggot in womb
suck blood feast fluid
until born to flesh cocoon
to die in butterfly

You know
your basic endless loop
of yes no maybe do it again
Zen when

— Smith, 7-7-2011


Life – foto by Smith

So Shall Ye Reap


Good field – foto by Smith

So Shall Ye Reap

Good field, good yield
Sallow, shallow

— Smith, 7-6-2011


Sallow – foto by Smith

Kafka’s Lady


Kafka’s Lady – foto by Smith

Kafka’s Lady

You do the deja voodoo you do so well
You do the who is you
The true to you clue
That put me under your B-movie spell

— Smith, 7-5-2011


Lady Kafka – foto by Smith

Dreamscape


Dreamscape – foto by Smith

Two cups of coffee
Body awake, mind asleep
Dreaming more of each

— Smith, 7-4-2011


Dreamscape – foto by Smith

Mobius Strip


Sun Crest – foto by Smith

Mobius Strip

Everybody wants
Not everybody has

Red taillights
Dusk and distance settling in

— Smith, 7-3-2011


Entropy – foto by Smith