Feline Fine Line
I’m quiet, reading,
when suddenly I’m bleeding,
forearm cat launchpad.
Cat on back of chair
purring, paw on my shoulder,
soothing the Smith beast.
As I pet the cat
she swats me between her purrs
drawing blood of love.
– Smith, 10.31.2014
Status Report 4
Time fills this empty
fool with brain gruel’s cruel
drool, skewed tools.
– Smith, 10.30.2014
YOU ARE
You’re clumped grasp
and ease, goal
and basket
Fetal position sleep
in the large round extent
of warm shallows
and shadows
like parents talking
from womb-lit rooms
over thinking candles
Each breath
gentle bellow
on your
realization
~ Lady
Mind Melt
Strange stuff going on.
Small things disappear,
reappear later,
or not,
in other places,
or same place with sly grin saying
“We wuz here all along,
you must got no eyes, long white one.”
They talk of the blue footed boobie
but ignore the red nested nipple.
We need to stop judging.
Yet must be discerning.
Analysis implies judgment.
Mobius strip anyone?
How’s our hive of order
as we burrow to the bone?
– Smith, 10.29.2014
We volunteered for the MetroPark’s Boo at the Zoo Sunday night. Gave good-sized free chocolate bars to kids. Pretty good gig, except for the temporary confusion on the kids’ faces when they ran up for the candy and we had to say, “Where’s your ticket?” whereupon the parents would start going through their pockets for the free tickets they should have been given at the gate . . . although if they didn’t have one, we gave them candy anyway.
We were one of three treat stations and we gave out around 1,000 chocolate bars.
We’ve done two other MetroPark children events — gave the kids free kites at Garfield Park, and helped them make stick bugs at Chagrin Park.
Adults don’t seem to realize these freebies stress some of the kids out. I watch their faces. For the kites, they were to draw their own magic marker designs on them, which most the kids loved to do, but some cringed at having to “perform” on command, while the stick bugs were quite complicated and beyond easy grasp for many of the smaller children under 6, so I’d watch their faces and tell them I could help them, or let them do it themselves, or do the whole thing for them. Turns out even having three options was too much for some, so I’d just start making the bugs and give them the chance to help or take over.
Folk should start watching their children’s faces, see what’s stressing them out. I know no one paid attention to my stress face when I was young. Thank goodness I’ve learned to hide it better as I’ve aged.
No Sandman for Him
Up before sun glow,
watch my rise time come and go
my insides so slow.
Mouth its yawn doth make
my soul awaiting wake
not the road to take.
This slow creep of sleep
assaults eyes with mental meek
as time slinks in seep.
Long dread day ahead
people, purpose, problems pled
slims my pathway pledge.
Eyelids limping low
body says oh no no go
will to will no flow.
Take strong coffee in
body, soul but laughs and grins,
won’t accept my spin.
Drudge of trudge begins
fog and fudge of mind again
now to when is dim.
Verse from brain too plain
working slim and slow to gain
murkified in aim.
I’m just tired enough
to go on and print this rough
purge my brain of slough.
Zombie walk in day
auto pilot choose and weigh
walking wobble way.
– Smith, 10.28.2014
EYE, MIND
Even face
a swimmer on top
of mind
Raw tiniest
twitch of taut
Someone an instrument
the sounds they shuffle
She slams or doesn’t
the door
Thought lost
from the pace of her footsteps
indifferent to thuds suffering
the wooden stairs
He coughs
and sits,
is
~ Lady
Squirm & Scroll
Squirmy the Wormy
as he burrows flesh to flesh
likes it dark and wet
for squirmy spermy
all out searching for her egg
for his breakfast kiss.
– Smith, 10.25.2014
The Church of the Perpetual 420
Worship in my church
of cannabis and caffeine,
mellowing the fast.
Way before sun up,
cup of coffee and a toke
lighten dark within.
Out of grass I am
so must face this flux and flow
of slow go with gone.
O. Z. can you say
by my pipe’s first fired light
just how hale you are?
Ritual of hope:
first fill of pipe, take of toke,
mellow wing of smoke.
– Smith, 10.24.2014
SOUND POEM
Does a bell go on and on?
Or hit space and dampen anonymously
into the capacitance of some sea?
Does it richochet round forever,
applications of ever lighter feather,
gilding wind and weather?
And thunder…
a long caress sunk in the
dissipating static of
rumbled heat?
~ Lady
Watching a 1959 TV show on NextFix starring Glint Mythwood riding shogun on a sagecoach in the old rest looking for the 8-rolled path with its four cultural pollinations.
Here’s its theme song.
Raw High
Tokin’ tokin’ tokin’
keep that pipe a smokin’
get high
swell bent for pleasure
mellow testin’ measure
tokin’ for the treasure
gettin’ high
get it out roll it up
flame it nice and fine
toke em up and hold it in
keep em smokin’
I’m still tokin’
hopin’ to stay high
rollin’ up the numbers
smokin’ up from under
lightin’ me some thunder
keepin’ high
sweet weed in head arisin
mellowing my horizon
ain’t no tellin’ no lies when
I get high
me oh my oh fly
rollin’ rollin’ rollin’
keep those numbers comin’
through rainy day woman weather
and plan 9 cashmere sweaters
there ain’t no nothin’ better
raw high
– Smith, 10.23.2014
