Status Report 130
Between sleep and dawn
water not yet boiling
surface reflecting stove light above
silhouetting a dozen dead insects
lining translucent cover
their shadowed shapes dancing
on heat quickened surface
before disappearing in boiling bubble
and dark bloom of caffeine.
I tell Lady
who says “Ahhhhhh, protein.”
– Smith. 11.29.2015
Status Report 129
I take in the mourning moon
the fog moon
the snow moon
the beaver moon
after the blood moon
after the blue moon supermoon fool moon
prepping brain for winter
purging body for soul
service for the solstice
sacred for the sign
of shedding wayward potions
and the unkind mind
– Smith, 11.28.2015
My new 4-year old nephew who was adopted along with his 6-year old sister last week by my bro&sis-in-law was asked who he wanted to sit by him at the childrens’ table on their first Thanksgiving with the new family. He pointed to me and said “That boy.”
This was the second time I’d met him, and we hadn’t spoken, but I’d noticed he kept staring at my $1 thrift store Tom & Jerry cartoon t-shirt. To be friendly on this meeting with them, I decided to wear it, figuring the children had enough trauma starting over in a new family and meeting all these strangers.
In this case, clothes made the boy.
As soon as I sat beside him, he pointed to my shirt and said, “I saw that movie. He keeps chasing him.” By pre-thinking the situation and dressing for their benefit, I snagged a special memory and a well-liked poem. Being thoughtful works.
Yesterday’s poem:
Out at the In-laws 18
“Who do you want to sit by you?”
she asks my newly adopted nephew
at the Thanksgiving table.
“That boy,” he points at me.
I look behind me, no one there.
He’s 4 years old.
Almost 70, I’m the oldest in the room.
“That boy.”
Yes.
– Smith. 11.27.2015
relationships
Lady’s Thanksgiving apple pie
I sat at the children’s table yesterday for Thanksgiving dinner with a 4 yr old and a 6 yr old.
Out at the In-laws 18
“Who do you want to sit by you?”
she asks my newly adopted nephew
at the Thanksgiving table.
“That boy,” he points at me.
I look behind me, no one there.
He’s 4 years old.
Almost 70, I’m the oldest in the room.
“That boy.”
Yes.
– Smith. 11.27.2015
Lady’s emergency Thanksgiving shopping list for me
Status Report 128
Frankenfish big as tumor
twist in flesh and form
Flowers growing to reach sky
picked by people
Life, luck, now, not,
tune on frankenSteinway piano
Flying fish leap from water to live
get eaten by sky
– Smith. 11.26.2015
detail First Light, 12″ x 10″, Smith, 11.2015
New piece yestercday, First Light, 12″ x 10″, Smith.
So
Sow reap rip sew sow
reap rip sew sow reap
rip sew sow reap rip
sew sow reap rip sew
– Smith. 11.25.2015
First Light, 12″ x 10″, Smith, 11.2015
Status Report 127
Piling high the sticks and stones
mixing muck, dirt, and earth
She-God cries “Up and atom, Adam,”
then nudging his ribs
steals his bone
adds mirth
and laughing up Her sleeve
creates Eve
for better and worse
– Smith, 11.23.2015
Status Report 126
Human do what human do
sometimes due
sometimes doo doo
– Smith, 11.22.2015
More “creature” voice urban blues (according to Lady K.) . . . “Time Is Not,” the 2nd song recorded yesterday. I like both of them a lot. Billy Clarksville does music, mix, recording, with me on words and voice – https://www.reverbnation.com/mutantsmith/song/24734231-time-is-not
Time Is Not
Time is not the major plot
for rot and roll to save my soul
cuz time is lost, time is lost
time like Sisyphus counting cost of coal
So ride the range of deserts strange
The sun below and sand piled high
The where to go decide by why
a secret course to heart high sigh
Here we go heart in glad
life aglow high five plan
we’ll make it work, we’ll make it swell
take our fork and tap the well
Do the do, be the be
be like you, not like me
every same has other side
and that’s where we must ride
I walk the road, I face the stairs
I hear the noise of trolls down there
below the here above the where
such is the is of my affairs
Yet I stand tall and I stand true
the silent type that does the do
though aim be skewed
pain still is shrewd
Do the do, be the be
be like you, not like me
for every same has other side
and that’s where we must ride
Stride through day, stroll through night
ride the ray of right in sight
it might just might set kinder tone
when time is lost alone
when time is lost alone
– Smith, 11.18.2015
Recorded two new songs today with Billy Clarksville, and both turned out fine, each one take, and I did close enough to what I’d hoped . . . talking blues using what Lady K. calls my creature voice.
Here’s the first one, Move Over, music/mix/recording by Billy Clarksville, words & voice are mine — https://www.reverbnation.com/mutantsmith/song/24734221-move-over.
Move Over
Watch for danger on the tables
sort the motion from the side
keep on moving soft as Able
when to Cain he cried
as his smoke scurried skyward
while his brother’s fire died
“Why burn grain my only brother
When God wants blood not yet dried
because God and man on flesh survive
so forget the cheek, the halfway humble
we glory God with genocide.”
That was the gamble of the agile
when we crept from sea to land
and though the problem’s far from over
violence still gums up the plan
This eye for eye and cheek for cheek
pads the pockets of the rich
hurts the meek
T’ain’t I and I my angry brother
versus you and you and yours of yore
all of us under rich bloodsuckers
pulling strings from top for more
and when we fight, they win
but if we unite well that’s something else again
Until then help your neighbor
help your friend
help yourself self help again
It’s your corner, it’s your light
your smile here might make right
bemuse there
reduce the glare
– Smith, 11.18.2015
start of 20″ x 16″ assemblage titled X O Poe Boy
Status Report 125
Beat the sun up out of bed
climb the gravity well
foot by foot in front of one to fill the sell of sale
Part Sisyphus part Tantalus
most rat wheel roll of race
in house of lie untried by true like time untied to space
Faith and fact divorce from act
the sheep dogs bark our stray
unless we toe official line the bankers bite and bray
Money rolls from bottom up
just some shit back down
as we bob and weave to please the rulings of the clowns
So I arise from lay of bed
to trudge this daily toll
even though rich and high rather buy than seek the source of soul
Let them rot
let them waste
may they eat dirt and no money taste
I will wake
I will rise
I will walk my road of why.
– Smith, 11.17.2015
