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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 March, 2014

Kitchen Net

Monday, March 24th, 2014

Kitchen Net

A double dose of dal boiling on the stove,
chopped tomatoes on glass cutting board
glisten in almost spring setting sun
sneaking through the low 20’s cold window.

Under the table the cat humming on rug.

Around the table Lady and I.

The street bought table top aged past scratched
enameled worn white finish.

On the table beside the tomatoes
poems for next issue of The City printed on paper,
wrong color box of Color the Gray to be sent away,
jar local raw honey, dried currants,
roasted peanuts in shells, olive oil, bananas,
vegan chocolate bar half eaten,
green tea, homemade apple crumble bars,
ceramic mushroom salt and pepper shakers
with irregular holes and no bottoms,
bamboo back scratcher with twine entwined
to go catfishing for cat, Bee Culture mag,
jar assorted mixed salted nuts,
sunflower seed oil, U.C.C. donation envelope,
green marker, Runners mag,
business card for auto art, seed catalog,
booklet for electric water fountain drinking bowl
we bought the cat today, wheat buns,
Veterans for Peace flier.

The tomatoes go into the frying pan with
hing, oil, bay leaves, sweet paprika,
mild chili powder, cumin seeds, mustard seeds.

The Basmati rice boils,
suntracks cross Persian rug.

“This is toor dal, not Barbie doll, right?”
I ask my Lady droll
as she adds ginger, turmeric, salt,
mango powder, garam masala.

Later be blender blending
and reusable liquid in Tupperware on table
and birds singing same seven notes
and nightfrog croakings from her laptop
me cleaning as she cooking
and laterer there will be forks and food and folk
but that is that poem
and this is this poem
and the dal is good.

– Smith, 3.24.2014

apple crumble bars


Zen Bone

Sunday, March 23rd, 2014

Zen Bone

Two traveling monks
come upon well-dressed woman
stymied by street run with mud.

Old man scoops her up
carries her across
and silent sets her spotless down.

Many quiet miles later
the young monk reproaches the old,
“You know it is forbidden for us to touch females.”

“You still carrying her?”
he laughs,
“I set her down hours ago.”

– Smith, 3.23.2014

Today’s and yesterday’s poems are my versions of koans in Zen Flesh Zen Bones: A Collection of Zen and Pre-Zen Writings by Paul Reps, Nyogen Senzaki, 1957.


Zen Flesh

Saturday, March 22nd, 2014


Zen Flesh

Monk running from tiger
climbs down vine over valley
hangs high over hard rock below
brief respite of is twixt void and abyss
when squeak brings his eye
to mouse gnawing through vine
hungry fur above
hard low below
despair in his belly
he sees one lone strawberry
big red and glowing
growing from cliff
plucks it
and eats with pure bliss

– Smith, 3.22.2014


Ablution’s Way

Friday, March 21st, 2014

new piece by Lady K., untitled, 5″ x 6″

Ablution’s Way

As I rise in morning wake
if All wills, a toke I’ll take

for morning buzz because I can
in my daily unmeasure of man

as I seek which street to sweep
for my soul’s clean to keep

all to rise above the little stuff
for sometimes kind is just enough

so hello day let’s walk this way
compassion, listen, patience, play

and if grass goes and I can’t toke
at least I’m in on the joke

so buzz buzz be and coffee be
bringeth forth my morning bee

I’ll buzz here and write words there
and take fotos of everywhere

and scout about and sniff and wheeze
and report back if you please

so you’ll know there’s some odd hole
down the road to soothe your whole

cuz where you glow is up to you
go due your done and fun your do

– Smith, 3.21.2014

new piece by Lady K., untitled, 5″ x 6″


Philosopher Stone

Thursday, March 20th, 2014


Philosopher Stone

Some silly scoff officers
place Descartes before the horse
discourse quarter whore sports
without tracts of time
just prime data dumps for pre-penis pumps
outside the roses in reels of remorse
with the more moral morsels outsourced of course
for being ain’t spam in philosopher jam
which doesn’t disprove
or even remove
the I ache therefore I am am.

– Smith, 3.20.2014



Hyde in Jeckyll Seek

Wednesday, March 19th, 2014


Hyde in Jeckyll Seek

Where I go goes ego
ergo eagle eye culls gulls
for gulliblity gumbo,
seasoned sauce,
sifting surface echo
for reason’s ought or guess so,
checking it thrice,
for even stopped clocks lost
boast right twice a day.

– Smith, 3.19.2014



Talents in the Temple

Tuesday, March 18th, 2014


Talents in the Temple

Day dawns bright and blue,
shame on you who doubt and then
try to horde the light.

Your wallets are all
small and your trousers under tight,
moldy maybe meat.

More men and women
in your life leave little love,
lavish less than like.

All your green won’t eat
and will not help you beat the
cycle night to light.

Money’s master price
deletes the good of gather,
creeps into the life.

By the time of bill,
ill-will will have tasted twice,
found you not so nice.

– Smith, 3.18.2014



Blues Happy

Monday, March 17th, 2014

Lady reading at Snoetry 4, 3.16.2014
Guide to Kulchur, Cleveland

Blues Happy

Got no money but got good luck
keeps me going when things get stuck

or broke or break or leak or lose
good luck beats betting on blues

though I bet on life times and such
seems to be working cuz I got right much

got wool slippers on feet from loving wife
wormhole tales of adventurous life

stocking cap that fits my head
easing me from cold of dread

words and images swarm in and out
seem happy to stop awhile hang out

art on walls, books on shelf
music seeping self to self

occasional toke to ease my mind
cowboy coffee to kick my behind

cat and couch and rug on floor
kinda greedy to ask for more

just glad the days pop along so strong
weaving word in deed and song

– Smith, 3.17.2014



Out at the In-laws 8

Sunday, March 16th, 2014

Red clay bird by Lady, foto by Lady

Out at the In-laws 8

Drive out in cold and wet and gray
To lucky redbird made from birthday clay

Mad mosquito copters tangle cook’s hair
Cat thanks to dogs won’t come from its lair

Electronic collar on Bugger dog beeps
Him from going too far outside keeps

Picachu bird eats tater chip from hand
Dodging toy copters intruding his land

My sculpture woman white in cage rust
On back porch gathers green mold and dust

Lady’s old artwork hangs on the wall
Rust red corrosion in blue copper all

Mud and snow and ice and slick soft soil
Lead downhill to pond ice too weak to roil

Lady stands silent on edge of dock wood
Cold in the old of this iced neighborhood

I in the basement secret tokes take
Aligning the social so everything’s jake

Sweet 17 candles on cake for two old
whose ages add up 132 fold

Lady spends weary way home in seat sleep
While I our four wheels on the road keep

– Smith, 3.16.2014



Love Potion

Saturday, March 15th, 2014

the Lady & the tiger

Love Potion

In the cool of the Fall
when we first fell
she was my B-movie star stable,
scrappy girl reporter one date,
witty secretary a la lusty librarian
or pouty pal with secret crush
the next,
sometimes all in one night,
it became ritual
each time we left I’d stop
two steps below
look up
demand one kiss for passage
and guage
what girl tonight?

One evening talking witches
as she left I found in fridge
on white plate
thick wet orangeyellow mango slices
arranged in crescent circle
with mound of red slick pomegranite seeds
glistening in their midst
like surreal sperm on fertile egg,
and flashed, aha, a love spell,
and flushed it down the toilet.
Did no good though,
we married a few months later.

– Smith, 3.15.2014


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