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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,
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Archive for December, 2013

I Am Not Made for This Crumbless World

Monday, December 23rd, 2013

jokerman

I Am Not Made for This Crumbless World

If blueberries don’t wear shoes,
what does a blueberry cobbler do?

I’m a Yeti working on SETI
since I haven’t found much here.

Bach didn’t like bok choy,
so there was no Bach bok choy joy.

Why is a pair of pants one item?
A pair of pears are duo,
so when did one one become two?
Do two pant make a pants?
Which pant’s prime?
Will a single pant pair up at the cleaners?
Are panties young pants?
How does a panty pair?
When you buy two panties,
is that a pair of a pair of panties?
Does cutting panties with scissors
require one scissor per panty?
Can one repair a pair of panty inside a pair of pant?

What’s my sign?
EXIT.

— Smith, 12.24.2013


sum burst – fotosmith

 

Hibernal Solstice

Sunday, December 22nd, 2013

Heron Boardwalk

Hibernal Solstice

We gather in wetlands in rain
to celebrate sunless winter solstice
reading poems.

Four of us on Heron Boardwalk Trail
cross river from Towpath Trail,
ice on water, water in air.

Papers limp wet with word sing
our story teller mission
of the would of may.

In this nature nurture spread,
where four or more we flock,
there in poem we are.

Unknown shamans
stumblebum dancing
working the lurking away.

— Smith, 12.23.2013
from Lady’s Winter Solstice outdoor reading




Hibernal Solstice – fotosmith

 

Kitchenetiquette

Saturday, December 21st, 2013

ritual dance

Kitchenetiquette

“You have to sit down and get into the time it takes,
like this peeling of the shallots”
she says
trying to teach me cooking,
but my brain hears Camelot,
knights, amor,
the revelry before the Sacred Peeling of the Shallots
as I pull her shallots down
around this clone of clown bent sideways
and head for higher ground.

— Smith, 12.22.2013


shallots and such – fotosmith

 

A Short Bus Ride from Town

Friday, December 20th, 2013

A Short Bus Ride from Town

We visited Auschwitz and Birkenau
concentration camps in Poland outside Krakow.

Auschwitz looks like a clean collage campus,
but Birkenau was drenched in death,
misery,
fingernail scratch in wood,
white bone chips in dirt you walk on
lining the bottom of the stream,
even the soft wind whisper in the slow moving trees
seemed sinister.

For willful dispension of disbelief
sorrow knows no words.

— Smith, 12.21.2013


Humpty Dumpty – fotosmith

 

Goldfinger

Thursday, December 19th, 2013

Goldfinger

My dead mom’s ring
on my live wife’s hand.

I’m wolfen to wifen
who keeps me off grid and on the griddle.

We’re Potabella and the Beast,
she the pretty fungi, me a wary wild.

We are our only child,
walk the sunny side of the beat.

— Smith, 12.20.2013


fotosmith

 

NATIVE WINTER RAGA CANOPY

Thursday, December 19th, 2013

NATIVE WINTER RAGA CANOPY

It’s winter, bone flute, birch bark

I run on blacktop in the park, this luxury
of civilization, paved path

Counterintuitively, some
pavement fosters Nature via
easy access, a means of paced
appreciation to the thick
of Great Spirit

Creatures of the Spirit abound–
rabbits in natural huddled stances
floating, coasting birds drifting
stresslessly in liquid air

Deer in the woods

Their nibbling ruminations
are interrupted by my approach

White tails flag, bounce vertically

Plump legs jump, crash and crunch
with ownership through underbrush
in flushed, blurred swirls–sienna, berry
bramble, raw manic pumpkin orange

Native hues drawn from palette
of winter season

Subtle beauty, bark and branch: bone,
charcoal, mocha winding upward

Thrusts of lace
like sea fan coral,
canopy

~ Lady

 

Confessional

Wednesday, December 18th, 2013

twilightzone

Confessional

I said I’ll make the decisions
because I’m old and male

and she said no

I said yes, says so in the Old Testicle,
and you don’t want to upset the Old Testicle
because it’s Big and Hairy

and she said don’t piss me off

I gasped, you’ve just offended the Sacred Scrotum

and she made the decision

— Smith, 12.19.2013


the resolution will be televised – fotosmith

 

Change Gang

Tuesday, December 17th, 2013

Change Gang

Traaaaaain waaaaaaaaail forrrrrrrrrlorrrn
nearby in night
going not here
from not here
hoping some happy down the line
undo’s dids and don’ts,
jumpstarts do.

But been that rail before,
know new just more more,
same old mirror in new town lure.

Face, not place, sets pace.
Run here there everywhere forever,
ever you go, there you are.

Emperor’s new clothes don’t hide so-so’s.

— Smith, 12.18.2013


fotosmith

 

LUCK BEING GOOD MUCH LIKE NUTRITION

Tuesday, December 17th, 2013

LUCK BEING GOOD MUCH LIKE NUTRITION

Luck’s in this time
and always available to us

Like a surfer, we can surf

Or not even
have to do that
‘cuz surfing implies
skillfulness

And we certainly don’t want
to limit luck to the skillful

So like a walker, we can walk,
we can walk right through
whatever door gets us there
to luck, luck being good,
of course, much like
nutrition

Doesn’t even have to be a door
we can walk through, it can be
an archway o’ air

It can be an archway o’ air
just sitting right here

Or if we’re a fish, it can be
an archway o’ water

Or if we’re a tunneling animal
or insect, it can be an archway o’ dirt,
the dirt in which we live,
the tunnel that is
our abode

So when we’re sitting here
our luck sits here, too

And part of it is out there
collecting goodness for us
with its arms
out there

And sitting
here
with us, too

Even just
enjoying
breathing

Being cultivated

And when we’re moving about,
our luck moves about with us and

We can take some of our ever-growing
luck–our ever-growing good luck–
and put gobs of it on places
and people so it
sticks to them,
takes care of them,
goo of goodness

~ Lady

 

Soul Mulch

Monday, December 16th, 2013

radioLady

Soul Mulch

She says she loves me so much,
but she can’t, because I love her so much,
and there’s only so much so much to go around.

I already muched her,
so there’s not enough so to much in return.

So much soul mulch in this milk of madness.

— Smith, 12.17.2013


snow so – fotosmith

 

 
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