AD.

WALKING ON THIN ICE

Coffee Grounds


homemade cowboy pan coffee, Costa Rican

Coffee Grounds

I
“Would you make another cup of coffee?” says she.
Why don’t you just buy a box of coffee drops? replies me.

II
Coffee, pot, before sun
rising gives light to day
and the wry of way

III
Hey Smith, the second cup of cowboy coffee
pushed you over edge.
Be discreet, do not repeat for this caffeine cup
too far up for down

IV
Too much coffee to sleep.
Not enough to stay awake.
No dope to smoke.
Spose dry and droll’s the way to go

– Smith, 3.26.2015





West Side Market coffee

Smith & Lady Poems March 2015 – Kathy’s # 26

 

Breaking logjam fog of dawn crackling daylight awake
on the tachometer comfortably matching illuminated
gear of the world’s signature, pumping khamak drum
to ear’s open negotiations of chinese opera tonalism,
fluid energy’s clarity for hardy legs of joggers
stimulating appetite to relish the cheddar of apple pie
degustation, intelligence animated like ecstatic visions
of the redeemer rising in blooms from flute’s keen
steam in a raga kafi,

Kathy always likes her cup of coffee.

~ Lady

 

Up Coffee Mountain, Mexico


Tanetze, Mexico – walking hour down mountain to pick coffee

Up Coffee Mountain, Mexico

Up the mountain a mile to Oaxaca,
nestle in toke and sun and sky.

One mile higher for Tanetze
to pick coffee trees entwined with vine.

Rise before sun to big pot of brew,
chase ache and creak of cold and sleep.

Trudge hour down mountain to outpost for picking,
cloudmist rising from river below.

Two lizards fuck in sunlight on tree stump,
pineapples grow right out of the ground.

Cinnamon bark peels from trees,
bananas bunched bend plants down.

Lunch at primitive pole-built campsite
crude cooked over fire, and serious coffee.

Back breaking work standing slant landscape
way above clouds reaching for beans.

End day so tired back up the mountain
almost falling to nothing below.

Bed without dinner too tired to eat,
in cold and darkness to sleep till again.

Happy special picking own coffee
to buy later when carried to town.

– Smith, 3.25.2015


coffee beans drying on our hosts’ roof

Smith & Lady Poems March 2015 – Lady’s #25

 

Mexico

Falling asleep on the bus
nodding off to cumbia beat
din of dreamscape, rumbling
carnival heart in the paper mache
garden of the world

Waking up at the stop
in the saddlebow of siddhasana,
like breathing suddenly clearly
wobbly fawn steps down to the street
new eyes delivered to daylight

~ Lady

 

Real Alignment


roadsign

Real Alignment

Radical radials relieve our unrolling
down the line up the lane over the hill
motivating motivating motivating will.

Thoughts start, gather speed, roll
on roads on paths on trails on grass
on nothing on naught on nowhere on nouns.

This whiz of slow go Zen when expanding
expends upends our depending on vectors
or values of vehicles or vous.

It’s a shame when the shamans
run low on gas for their parsing of path
and partial parole.

The wheel’s wobble cobbles the cruise
into using real alignment
of one into two.

Mind mess less mundane than magic
morass of maybe matches my time
to her climb for clues.

– Smith, 3.24.2015


roadsigns

Smith & Lady Poems March 2015 – Lady’s #24

 

Unsure about the threads of his bed he set to rolling
on radial tires the medicine of the steering wheel his
own

quiet authority a mechanical shaman easing his
weave the road’s trance of flowing white lines

his
unwavering eyes the molded crease of his mouth the
movie light of the night strobing chiaroscuro pores of
his skin

staring straight ahead thinking,
thinking

~ Lady

 

making bed


dreamcatcher

Making Bed

Heck with yarn, cloth and thread
when it comes to making bed,
there’s more than sleeping.

Such as the farmer’s daughter
awaiting her knight in white satin.

The too big dream small,
make the lesser crawl,
yet all same pillow.

When creature comforts lessen,
wing and tuck adventures begin.

Light and darkness dance redux
fair where firm foundation,
faux softer.

Dreams bestow wondrous slow,
or grow blankets large and muffled.

Now I lay me down to sleep
sans sheet of weep and wallow
for retreat.

Dreaming dandy lion wine
in baby bellowed quantum.

– Smith, 3.23.2015

Smith & Lady Poems March 2015 – Lady’s #23

 

Hex on the barn
dandelion wine in the grail
light known by shadow flowing
in shoulders looming busy
under the gambrel

Farmer midwives mothers’ coronas
in the magnum mysterium, cleared breath
baaaa of baby, quadrivium of the choreocosmos
from wrought slops of pink and cord
in the late and raw midnight

Early spring’s humidity smell
potting soil promise of more light
the crucible of how expectant we feel

~ Lady

 

owlwellian altar


not owl 1

Owltopia

Big owl dreaming small
from old barn in fall
hoots in holler

Dreams mice and rabbits rare
with maybe a chocolate eclair
to follow

Butter flies from knife to toast
just before some raccoon roast
offered up below

Food and flings
and endless springs
be owlwellian altar

– Smith, 3.22.2015


not owl 2

Smith & Lady Poems March 2015 – Lady’s #22

 

Spotted owl
dreams of prismatic days
like dots of painted lady butterflies
lit on blooms of blazing stars
on tarnished mirror ponds

Glint wings open, close
drink nectar’s paint
in quiet gulps

Refreshing the palimpsest
with flitting tint, bits of peace
from the empyrean pool
in eternal’s swirl

~ Lady