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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, 2016

sleep wake wake sleep

Monday, February 29th, 2016


Status Report 187

It’s good to have a porpoise in life
helps in having a whale of a time
unless you winnow your minnows.

Sometimes dark takes the mind
getting through gets heavy
gets hard, gets weary
just logical
stuff happens
no happen, no stuff
it goes in cycles
that’s why there’s sleep and wake
night and day
hunger and satiation.

Today is an almost bedtime day
a day of wait to sleep and wake
hoping sleep will wake without.

More pun tomorrow
less sucking bone sorrow
soar more like an arrow.

– Smith, 2.29.2016




life laws and flaws brought no applause

Saturday, February 27th, 2016

trapdoortrap door

Status Report 186

I used to work in the land mines.
That’s where all this land comes from.
I dug it up.

I’d go down long tunnels of nothing
hunt for something
return to light and sum bring.

But my write of life laws and flaws
brought no applause
because of.

– Smith, 2.27.2016

copstopcop stop from 3rd floor window


boketto brain

Friday, February 26th, 2016

onesmallstepone small step

Status Report 185

Got the act, just need the action.

I’m smart enough for it to be a problem
but not smart enough to make it pay.

Unfamous I fumble my future
suture to suture to further unfind
I’m not a main user.

I want it all, and then some, plus 10%.

Seeking mayonnaise mind
I look into my head and find boketto brain.

There is no me outside my head
rather strange out
stranger in.

I no longer hear myself.

Like to get to know me
but I won’t talk.

Follow the star and the three wisemen.
I will be lying in swaddled clothes
with the asses in the mange.

– Smith, 2.26.2016

Boletto is a Japanese word with no English equivalent meaning staring off in the distance at nothing.

Got stoned on grass and took my one lorazepam relaxant pill before my MRI yesterday and fell asleep during the middle of it. When I jerked awake inside the machine, I was unsure where I was . . . all I could see was a glowing unfocusable translucent milkiness of unknown depth and the dust on my eyeballs floating somewhere between me and milk which was further confounded by the strange loud clunking mechanical sounds surrounding me.

Reminded me of my confusion waking in the elevator in 1984. Was working 60 hours a week programming computers and I got stoned and went in at 4 a.m. to get a head start. The computer stuck between floors, so I called the emergency number and was told it would be an hour before the guy could get up, dress, and drive in, so I lay down on the carpeted floor and went to sleep. When I awoke still stoned, I looked around the strange box I was lying on the bottom of and tried to decide where I was. Suddenly a panel in the wall opened and a guy motioned for me and we stepped across the elevator shaft to the next elevator which took me up to work.

Marvelous mind fuck.



3 flute lifeform

Thursday, February 25th, 2016


Bree Zlee Zlee, who is living in an ex-brothel in Paradise, Kentucky, featured my creative existence in her EFFITS UNDY underground blog yesterday >

Status Report 184

Sitting in comfort of silence
sipping first sip of black coffee
honoring unrisen sun
which will not be seen
through raingray overwarm winter

Awaiting 5-hole handmade red cedar
pentatonic Native American flute in D
to arrive to sing new song with old notes

It is here

Find my corner
sit in shadow
practice broken tune

Reset tomorrow sun

– Smith, 2.25.2016

The middle flute arrived today. I can noodle about on the small pocket flute but ain’t got no shake. Lady gave it to me last birthday. The long flute on top is a bass, Lady gave it to me for Christmas, but my arthritic hands can’t handle the hand spacing so I’m waiting for warmer weather to loosen them up to try again. The middle flute is tuned to D and arrived this morning for my birthday in a couple weeks when I turn 70. I can already do better on it in less than an hour than the other two.

I’m a 3-flute piperman . . . now, where’s the rats?

Going to have an MRI today. Doc says my nerves are strung too tightly down both sides my body, wants to check my neck. Told him if he was putting me in the MRI again, he was going to give me something to make me feel less claustrophobic. So he prescribed one Lorazepam pill which I’ll pop an hour before walking nine blocks to the hospital on my broken knee.

Here’s the poem from my first MRI.

Industrial Symphony 35

They wedge me in the MRI
surgical shoulder ache in pain
start to roll me into machine as I inquire
“How long will this take?”
“Thirty-five minutes.”
My mind cramps,
don’t like being trapped,
don’t like this,
know the panic button in my hand
and then Industrial Symphony 35 starts
bleep blap boop
duck duck duck duck duck
baptist baptist baptist baptist
whirl screech scrack scream
groan jerk jerk jerk growl
whappa whappa whip whop
blurp bloop bleep
chick chick click click chick chick crik
ruha ruha rumble rumble row
shudder shake shake shiver
herk quirk murk blurt
scrape jerk jerk jerk scoop
aooooga aooooga
dive dive dive
start again different order
different sounds
worthy of recording for hard music market
loud loud loud
I trap my trap fear
breath slow, deep
say Buddhist chant
start counting one thousand one
roam levels of hell
until “You doing ok?”
“How long?”
“Ten minutes more.”
rise through purgatory
“Three minutes. You’ve been very good.”
one thousand one one thousand two
hit one thousand one hundred fifty
“Done, be right in.”
Never again.
But thanks for the symphony
if not the memory,
and may you never ever hear it.



hive head

Tuesday, February 23rd, 2016


Status Report 183

Restless leg syndrome
creeps up my body to my brain
till I don’t want to be aware
not here not there not anywhere
just sleep deep through flocking sheep
wake late in sun of shine divine
wrested from leg drain
and human unkind

– Smith, 2.23.2016

Lady K’s is adding clay molded to look like beehive honeycomb wax to a mannequin head that used to be in one of my sculptures. Not sure where she’s going with it, but the journey is already mighty interesting . . . looks like a Mother Nature version of the Borg, using organics rather than machines . . . the Bee-org.



so Cain cried “You want dead animal, God?”

Monday, February 22nd, 2016


Status Report 182

Abel offered burnt meat to God.
Cain offered cooked veggies.
The smell of flesh was sweet unto the Lord
not so the vegan course
so Cain cried “You want dead animal, God?”
and bashed Abel’s head in.
“Here’s your meat.”

– Smith, 2.22.2016



lost our hive

Sunday, February 21st, 2016

hivebytim2foto of our beehive with Miles the Wonder Dog by Tim Green

Status Report 180

We lost the hive
lost our girls
our babies

Went from 10,00 bees
to 70,000 bees
to none.

Our first year beekeeping
ends three months short.

Try again.


Dumped our first batch of 10,000 bees into our first hive last April 21. Those three pounds of bees grew to 70,000-80,000 and gave us 120 pounds of honey . . . and a lot of hard work.

They were fine last inspection. Now the hive is dead. They have plenty of untouched honey, so it’s not a food problem. The winter hasn’t been very cold, so that’s not it. Lady wrote that “It was probably from Nosema, a parasite that causes bee diarrhea. We saw that there was diarrhea around the top entrance of the hive. I think that they were more susceptible to dying from the cold because of Nosema.”

Now we have to burn the honey frames, take a blowtorch and scorch the inside of the hive, order another 10,000 bees with a queen for the spring (around $140) and try again.

I feel sad. Lady feels worse.


Status Report 181

One last dying bee clings to Lady
riding her back inside
saying goodbye


foto of our beehive by Tim Green


go thee, and suffer less

Friday, February 19th, 2016

sufferless01the Irreverend Smith & his beloved Lady presiding

Status Report 179

Block the bright
Keep the shades down
I shall sleep away this light

Recharge for wear of war
prepare for wise
in daily lie

– Smith, 2.19.2016



Song of Corporate Alley

Thursday, February 18th, 2016


Song of Corporate Alley

I worship the gods OhByGosh and ByGolly
One’s rather rash, the other quite jolly

Neither asks tithing except initial teething
Both entail writhing with a bit of reeling

One comes from Heck, the other some Heaven
On wrong side of track with odds uneven

With their Holy Gulpees and Thin Wafer Stew
They purge your sin while cleaning out you

And putting on pounds while weakening spine
Making it easier to swallow the official line

Of there’s no wrong, it’s all to the good
Now handcuff your hands, put head in hood

Trust us to muster the checks and pays
It’ll be good long as you do what we sez

For oh by Gosh by Golly is now official volley
As we walk through The Corporate Valley

With corporate race run all night long
due date due date

– Smith, 2.18.2016



many a was unwanted

Wednesday, February 17th, 2016

Status Report 178

Mother Nature’s nipple and Poppa Time’s lime
sometimes get their pickles slathered up in slime
stretching interstitial stitches saving nine

A fistful of silly is a sought full of sigh
as we willy nilly crawl through this cry
peopling our steeples with the unrealized

The lone train moan in our valley of night
comes from many a was unwanted
furthur down the line

– Smith, 2.17.2016



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