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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 )
 
   
 
 

Archive for February, 2014

Rabbit Mountain

Wednesday, February 19th, 2014

Rabbit Mountain

Went to camp with the European Rainbow Tribe
but our borrowed tent and sleeping bags did not
so spent the night in the open in a frozen sheep shit field
me going into hypothermic shock donned 3 pair
socks, 5 t-shirts, 3 shirts, socks on hands, t-shirt
around head plus a hat and held Lady tight all night
for warmth wondering how I could be freezing to death
in a field in the English highlands in August.

At dawn walked down mountain
through hundreds of rabbits hopping slowly
through fields on both sides of us
in early morning ritual,
rising sun lighting sky, leeching cold,
no people in sight or sound,
just ancient stone fences demarking even older land,
a land this morning of many moving rabbits
descending silent, unafraid.

– Smith, 2.19.2014

 

Newer Wetter Better Badder

Tuesday, February 18th, 2014

forbiddenzone

Newer Wetter Better Badder

Forbidden water tastes wetter,
secret sounds sigh softest,
grass is greener where it’s better,
mind matters most more often,
but not all the time,
sometime need takes lead
while others have heart the hardest.
I’m probing place,
making map,
thanking my luck for kindness
because looking back I see the traps
of newer wetter better badder,
glad they’re not my am.

– Smith, 2.18.2014


whetherworn – fotosmith

 

TOPOLOGY

Tuesday, February 18th, 2014

How there is a mountain and there are mountains
and I want to climb and play on them. How I’m like
a goat (they are adept on mountains) and I’d like
to climb and play. So when I paw for footholds
it’s really me just looking to climb and play on
you, you being part of the mountain I see, the
‘scape of Reality. Footscape, food for my brain,
an octopus twirling a Rubix cube. Gears, too. I’m
looking for footholds of collaboration and
understanding to grease my grind flawlessly. I’m
looking for that which doesn’t bother me, that
which doesn’t agitate my ego. Something with some
grease, happy happy grease or ice or something
slippery I can eel my way around. Or sand to
dampen. Footholds of content rather than upset. Or
if I’m sticking something in, may it be benevolent
like acupuncture.

What I’d like to see is a glass or diamond
mountain, something shiny. When I chisel my feet
into it the footholds would be put there for me.
Footholds with presents, flowers and food that
everyone can follow before and after me. Footholds
on some dharma path like cornucopias. Or footholds
on different paths for different people–it’s not
differentiation but rather situations various us’s
of us have landed–therefore, different paths. Or
formulaic paths that work, if that’s OK. Paths
that have each of us winding up the mountains or
for those who aren’t like goats–those who don’t
like to climb–through plains, too.

Or if I’m a being with roots, how I can just grow,
through and around myself, inner skin pushing
radius outwards and upwards.

Howe’er I traverse this path may I recognize it as
topology in which I can do and be such as to
unmoody myself.

~ Lady

 

Little Mountain

Monday, February 17th, 2014

Little Mountain, Holden Arboretum, February 2014

Little Mountain

Little Mountain mountain
more big hill
until you walk up an hour
wander round top
hour back down
in 14 inch snow
bladder full
seven hikers
wide white expanse
narrow trunk trees
no hiding leaves
but worth it
for cleansing cold
eyewash white
body bold
deer tracks
cliff cracks crawled
and moment on top
in silent stillness
ice crystals floating on air
in bright sun
stars exploding
bursting through the meat heat
of wealth and want and fame.

– Smith, 2.17.2014







Little Mountain, Holden Arboretum, February 2014

 

Back in the Day

Sunday, February 16th, 2014

stay spaced

Back in the Day

Used to drink mongoose monkey ball tea
when I worked the topics.
Nothing important,
but did manage the comma division for awhile,
and once italicized an entire sentence,
on . . . my . . . own . . .
so am used to regulating my regime.
I don’t piss on flowers,
but do write a fine thank you note
when the proper angles combine
and light skipslips over paper like slick ice
with no breaks.
Which returns me to tea
man that monkey ball grew hair on your orbs
ever morn before storm
every night after light
so much you couldn’t sleep
would creep deep into dark
seeking spark to arc life’s march.
and of course for the more morose
more mongoose monkey ball tea
before heading out to sea
to see what we could be.

– Smith, 2.16.2014


thesis

 

Why You Young Whippersnapper

Saturday, February 15th, 2014

going down

Why You Young Whippersnapper

Here kid have some old —
my get up and go has got up and gone song
is it already morning cuz bed’s where I belong
this clump of proletariat lump has got to be wrong
I’m more wind in the trees and walk on the beach sort
prefer counting peas beneath sheets sport
or investigating state of affair report tort
though I can tell you this I don’t know that
don’t know if reality is half alive half dead cat
but have seen how human and hammam interact
been places with people I did not know
surfed flux with weird back and forth flow
and now I’m here still looking for where to go
can’t tell you true what where when why
but no matter what know you still have to try
to find word of your own, shed this social lie
cuz most this this has already been done
repeatedly found not to be very much fun
and you lose most of your you once you have won
— cold creaky mold

– Smith, 2.15.2014


going up

 

Radio Free Cleveland

Friday, February 14th, 2014

fridgeware

Radio Free Cleveland

Deep flow, breathe in, let go,
bath hot I sweat, prone, alone,
brain lifting in drifting song,
traffic rush continuous swoosh
with occasional high whine climbing,
helicopter flying low, slow, Metro bound,
food moth flaps against window,
metal baseboard clicks contracting heat,
Granny’s clock ticks bathroom tile,
neighbor murmur low below,
drum thump bass thrum of basement band,
train lone moan down in the Flats,
child laughter close,
cat scratch into silence.

– Smith, 2.14.2014


if not you,. who?

 

LOVE

Friday, February 14th, 2014

LOVE

Loving with my palms up, stretched out
like sieving liquid bounty love of sun and rain,
receiving grace, opening leafs into a holy book
illustrated by hand, dragons and lace

Love with my lungs breathing in and out
The medium we swim in, the thrashing thrubs
of a fetus’s ultrasound heart

Love that absorbs so much from us
love that dampens the pollution of our
oblivious maneuvers and tired leavings

It forgives

Mother Earth love or whatever Earth as an
operating being prefers to be known as
if it could convey it to us, Gaia

Love of the steady burning wick
candle light sun, gold and silver sun
sun behind clouds, sun around the horizon,
sun here

Our love… your mind, mine and ours
and what I can do

Sometimes I grope, sometimes I give, thankful
for the continuity of the skin of our days

~ Lady

 

Life Laws

Thursday, February 13th, 2014

spacetime

Life Laws

Soft paws hide sharp claws.
Pretty purr and twirly tail
carry tooth and nail.

Karma calls for fall
if all not rose and cherry.
May mine be benign.

Death slipslides best,
though seldom here, always around,
not lost, just not found.

Hunger’s the habit
gets you hooked on money work.
Am I man, or rabbit?

Sparrow rents no sky,
pays no seed on the ground,
rather plays around.

Let love be the grace
weaving your life to her lace,
make you your own place.

Clean sheets, clean body,
new made bed – my Zen to when,
here flow now follow.

– Smith, 2.13.2014


timespace

 

Recipe for Memory

Wednesday, February 12th, 2014

memoryLady

Recipe for Memory

Take pistils and stamens and whales and cavemen,
add space to lay brood and make honey,
and in place of the problem of the Pied Piper of Hamlin
try tick tock kit cat clock
against rain soaked old stained wallpaper
weighted upon the shoulders of olders,
then seep, rehash,
remove for repast,
flavor,
and attempt to re-seize for re-savor.

– Smith, 2.12.2014


memorySmith

 

 
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