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...and they lived happily ever after. Smith & Lady: poets, artists, photographers & adventurers.
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Archive for December, 2012

Lenore’s Homemade Cookie Doo

Friday, December 14th, 2012

I’m grieving a bit this morning. I miss my grandmother tremendously. We were going to get together to make cookies this year as we had for the past couple of years. She amazed me with her energy in making hundreds, maybe more than a thousand of cookies with me, standing in the kitchen, mixing dough, and her being over eighty years old.

I’m listening to Thich Nhat Hanh while writing this. He’s lecturing on loneliness, and says that we can build a home within ourselves, that we don’t really need to have another person around in order to feel at home. It helps me feel a little better.

Every year, I make this recipe of Grandma’s, “Lenore’s Homemade Cookie Doo.” Grandma actually sold this dough to Heinen’s (a grocery store chain in Ohio) at one point–an original freezer roll cookie.

Lenore’s Homemade Cookie Dough

1/2 C. shortening
1/2 C. butter
2 C. sugar
1 tsp. salt
2 eggs
3 C. flour
1/2 tsp. soda
1 tsp. vanilla

Mix together. Wrap in wax paper. Chill, slice, decorate with sprinkles, bake 350 degrees 12 min. Also good with 1/2 brown sugar.

~ Lady

 

wrong pickup truck car fight

Thursday, December 13th, 2012

Morning mist – foto Smith

Friend and Gone

Our near departed
1994 bright red Honda Civic
232,681 mile odometer
dashboard light unshown but thrice
in four years owned
radio ripped out in first week pain
slow oil leak now driveway stain
mismatched headlamps don’t aim quite right
cuz of wrong pickup truck car fight
2 tires leak with the spare unaired
entropically beckons
$700 clutch
$900 front end
$700 catalytic converter
couple hundreds brakes and shakes
bad starter
2 mufflers
broke axle
2 batteries
crunched fender hood 12 hundred
and more galore
plus preprimaried 3 grand
all gots to go
cuz mechanic’s “No”
trumps called-for fix for
$200 control arm bushing
yellow bungee cord closed trunk
and thousand dollar rust
so now our go soon gone
I find she’s friend, belonged
will miss her concert creaks and whistles
groans and twitching
rattles banging sideboard sagging
sliding down the road
but no more money down that hole
as new used car we go
to 2007 Prius flow

(I’ve never had new, while wife’s had many
but that’s in other story)

— Smith, 12.12.12







Near departed – foto Smith

 

Chromosome Zone

Monday, December 10th, 2012

Bio ooze – foto Smith

Chromosome Zone

Zoo ooze all over my shoes
zoo ooze slick in my hair
zoo ooze not what I choose
yet here I am in zoo ooze lair
oozing zoo
right here, back then, up there

— Smith, 12.10.2012


Bio ooze too – foto Smith

 

Pop goes the wheel

Saturday, December 8th, 2012

Super awesome – foto Smith

A good day for a flat tire.

Drove to our weekly breakfast. Saw a poet-friend turned hermit at the cash register, sat and talked. As we all left he said “This is going to be a good day.”

Two blocks later we pull over because things don’t sound right. Our rear tire is flat. Lady mentions she heard a *pop* when we parked at the restaurant.

The spare tire is also flat because of a bad air stem. Flat tire, flat spare, I put money in the parking meter.

Lady says she saw a tire store a block back, so I check the broken trunk to see if our jack’s still there, remove the tire, carry it over. They find the air stem blown out at its base (Lady’s *pop*).

They plop in a new stem, say “No charge” and send us on our way.

From flat to fixed, less than 30 minutes. Cost zero, value infinite.

I am grateful for these acts of kindness.


Good day morning – foto Smith

 

Lullaby

Friday, December 7th, 2012

Like a baby – foto Smith

Lullaby

Cat purr in my ear and rain on the roof
you can play that song all night long

— Smith, 12.7.2012


Quantum cat – foto Smith

 

Vending Machine Poetry for Change

Tuesday, December 4th, 2012

just-published Vending Machine Poetry for Change #3 – foto Smith

Spare Change

B the b u want 2 c
from long ago
to now and go
trussed truth
cooks the goose
grokking gander
grating grinder
never minder truth and dare
be ware you care
for wrong so-longed
and right fought fight
with light not might
persuade b 4 forbade
so spare some change
rearrange the lane
from take to give
to talk to live
let’s get this getting going

— Smith, 10.13.2012

This appears in volume 3 of *Vending Machine Poetry for Change* (which comes out yearly) just published by Vertigo Xi’an Xavier’s *The Poet’s Haven* press — poetshaven.com/, a chapbook which contains 33 poems by different poets inspired by Mahatma Gandhi’s statement “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.”

This is my first time being in a Poet’s Haven publication . . . sent him a bunch of stuff for four other up-coming anthologies:

Lady has a great poem in #3 titled *WAY, HOW, WHAT*

All profits from VMPFC#3 (as well as #s 1 & 2) go to Poetic Provisions (http://www.facebook.com/PoeticProvisions) which helps the Canton Sunday Picnic and the Akron-Canton Regional Foodbank feed the hungry:

“The Canton Sunday Picnic is a grassroots meal that feeds the homeless and those in need every Sunday at Market Square Park in Canton, Ohio. Volunteers cook donated food, often supplementing from their own kitchens, for 80-100 people each week. In addition to non-perishable food donations, the Canton Sunday Picnic also needs items such as cooking oils, herbs and spices, aluminum foil, paper plates, napkins, and plastic eating utensils.

“The Akron-Canton Regional Foodbank provides food and other essential items to member agencies in Carroll, Holmes, Medina, Portage, Stark, Summit, Tuscarawas, and Wayne Counties. Foodbank lists their most needed food items as: breakfast cereal, peanut butter, canned tuna, canned vegetables, and canned soups.”

“Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine.” — Robert C. Gallagher


Vending Machine Poetry for Change #1, 2010 – foto Smith

 

Sum parts

Monday, December 3rd, 2012

sum part – foto Smith

Writing poetry can be frustrating at times since due to its nebulous nature it can be read so many ways depending on the reader’s mood, education and happiness.

There was confusion last week about 2 of my poems which caused me to leave the following explanation as a FaceBook comment. Blogging it here cuz it’s rewritten and theoretically I have more blog readers than FB readers, unless they’re all trolling cyber-spyders.

Wife just read the following poem and exclaimed, “Oh, how sad.” And I went “What?”

Brain Salad

Belief and doubt
merge in comforting concinnity

Bursiform bag
on broken throne

Token clone
of tarnished saint

No here here
or there there

No here now
just now now

I’m telling ya flux, it ain’t a sad poem — I should know, I was there during both inception and birth. It’s a philosophical riff on Ram Dass’ “Be here now” and Gertrude Stein’s “There’s no there there” (her judgment of Las Angeles both culturally and as a city) plus the Buddhist teaching ‘all is illusion.’ All in all a positive thought flow to me, but I can see how it can be read sadly.

Same thing with my previous poem which some saw as sad:

New Year’s Model

Old walk, new waddle
as border I straddle
of was forever will be
or
break from cage
cocoon hibernation
burn to butterfly
phoenix rebirth

No, not sad — positive . . . this was a meditation on me deciding not to immediately replenish my grass supply because I’m in a same-old rut and need to break out of my soothing sleep, leave my cocoon and become butterfly, rise in new from Phoenix ash of old.

Don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m constantly sparring with my nature, trying to encourage my better inclinations and discourage or even hopefully conquer my lower nature.

Guess I’m too cryptic in my writing – but that’s what poetry is, unless it’s the easy to follow verse of an Ogden Nash or Dr Seuss (both of whom I respect, although respect doesn’t cover Dr Seuss — it’d be more like awe).

And I must admit I don’t understand or get a lot of my fellow poets’ poems as well because I don’t have their secret starting point to know where to begin.

So I’ll continue to write and post and be misunderstood because basically writing poems supplies me my worth factor – any day with a new poem is a day I’ve earned my keep.

Fortunately I write a lot of straight forward verse as well that’s easier to see as positive, even though it often hides darkness beneath in implication.

We’re all a work in process. Life is process. Good, bad, indifferent, in between . . . we work on what we are, and what we are comes from who we’ve been and what we want to be.

You can decide when I’m done how plus or minus I was along the way. Until then, misunderstand away — but remember, even my negative words have a basic inner positive thrust — they imply “This could be better” or “There is light and potential purpose beneath this dark analysis.”

Like all of us, I’m dark and light within. Been either fighting that or trying to come to terms with it my entire life. Figure my job is to handle the dark and exude the light.

If I make you think along the way, I’ve earned my keep . . . if I make you smile or laugh in the process, well that’s my Christmas bonus.

I think the main clue to the first poem being positive is the word concinnity which means:
1. Harmony in the arrangement or interarrangement of parts with respect to a whole . . . Studied elegance and facility in style of expression . . . an instance of harmonious arrangement or studied elegance and facility.

This probably doesn’t help folk much because it’s a word nobody knows — I got it from my A-Word-A-Day daily email — wordsmith.org/awad/.

Bottom line – folks overlay their emotion and meaning over my own, and the only way around this is to write simple straight-forward unambiguous poetry, which I can’t always do because I love words too much, the way they flow and twist and transform and play with my mind.

Just another skirmish in the never ending Subjective-Objective War.


Dividing line – foto Smith

 

Lady’s poem, remixed by Android

Saturday, December 1st, 2012

Do not bend – foto Smith

I left Lady a voice mail on her new Android fone and it converted it into text for her to read. I read what it said I said, which wasn’t what I said, so decided to read her poem into her voice mail and see what came out.

The fone’s mistranslation put a smile on my face.

Here are three views.

1 – Original voice mail and converted text compared line by line;
her poem line in italics followed by converted line in bold.

My Rock by Lady K
My luck lately k

Most people think of a rock as
Will she will take of a rock as
something stationary on the ground.
something stationary on the ground

There is a rock in me
that makes me go.

there is a rock in the next week …

I was bewildered
I was been release
by the mystery of my ambition.
for the mystery of my ambition

That’s when I found this rock.
yes for my phone this rock

This rock won’t break up,
this rock we’ll break up
and it doesn’t respond
and it doesn’t respond
to my questions.
to my question

This rock just says
this work to you says
“I am a rock”
I cannot lock
and it makes me go.
and make sure you go

~ ~ ~

2 – Fone’s attempted text:

My luck lately k

Will she will take of a rock as
something stationary on the ground

there is a rock in the next week …

I was been release
for the mystery of my ambition

yes for my phone this rock

this rock we’ll break up
and it doesn’t respond
to my question

this work to you says
I cannot lock
and make sure you go

~ ~ ~

3 – Lady’s actual poem:

My Rock by Lady K

Most people think of a rock as
something stationary on the ground.

There is a rock in me
that makes me go.

I was bewildered
by the mystery of my ambition.

That’s when I found this rock.

This rock won’t break up,
and it doesn’t respond
to my questions.

This rock just says
“I am a rock”
and it makes me go.


Lady & her scamp – foto Smith

 

 
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