insert 2 Frankenstein bolts


Lady K.’s summer 2016 issue of The City is online at

. . . it features art and poetry by Jim Baron, Bree, Tim Green, Lady K, and myself.

Bone Bad

I’m good down to bone, then I go bad.

They replaced my left shoulder bone;
I named it The Load.

They replaced my right hip bone;
I called it Cat.

Now I let hip Cat shoulder The Load.

Broke my kneecap and it didn’t heal;
I dubbed it Sir Kneel-less.

My neckbone’s degrading;
they’re going to insert two Frankenstein bolts.

Bad in the bone, and getting worse.

– Smith, 6.30.2016

envysignsign of envy

devil or angel?

devilorangeldevil or angel?

Status Report 223

Struck right
a singing bowl sings forever

Human discord implies
we’re strung wrong

And unharmonized
we worse earth’s song

Fouling one’s nest
is not best endeavor

Time to get in tune
and go along

– Smith, 6.29.2016

leafriseleaf rise

denouement chicken


Sisyphus Circle

What’s Sisyphus’ favorite music?
– rock ‘n’ roll.

What beer does Sisyphus drink?
– Rolling Rock.

Sisyphus tried dating Prometheus’ sister,
but she didn’t light his fire.

Hearing that far-off close-by train wail,
Sisyphus wished not to be Sisyphus.

It’s like getting old,
being Sisyphus ain’t for sissies.

Sisyphus never took vacation,
he couldn’t afford knowing not rolling.

Sisyphus decided if he ever got rich
he’d install an elevator.

– Smith, 6.28.2016


love the cluck of chickens


Status Report 222

Love the cluck of chickens,
the laugh of children play,
birds, rain, running water,
train wails far away;
they ease the prick of thicket’s thorn
for as now is reckoned
morals thicken after ticket’s torn.

– Smith, 6.27.2016


5 poets 1 line at a time



We played the┬áDadaist game at our monthly poetry workshop where someone writes a line, passes it to the next poet who writes a┬áline and then folds the paper so the previous line can’t be seen and passes it on . . . had 5 poets so we each started one piece of paper.

5-Poet 5-Part Pass-Around Poem
a line at a time by Wendy Shaffer,
Jack McGuane, Lady K, Russell Vidrick, Smith


Coffee dark before sun light
Mandy slips like a minnow between my legs
She’s a lovely fur girl
So is Hillary
Going to be our next leader
Which makes me more afraider
Twisty worded wondering,
Am I a poet?
You may be, I’m not
But on Monday you get an extra bagel
To feed the hunting beagle


So eat already
I am your yum yum yum
Tastes good to me
Eat all you want and not gain an ounce
Then you’ll be slow when the panther pounces
Prone and happy to be someone’s meal
Divine acceptance
Watch your verbs
Pizza is good but bologna is better
So is wrestling in melted butter


Today tomorrow and everyday
Time dances in wooden shoes
Hand holding blessed beings under stars
We swallowed the light of God
I only do girls when there in season
With or without Mobius reason
Ants chased from hives by bees
As the cat lady thwarts them all
That’s the cat that jumps over the moon
Tomorrow its time to go go go
Fast lane only, fuck the slow


Donald Trump will be the next President
And the world will end
Until we can glue it back again
Lets celebrate the shards
The dazzling slivers of perfection
They’re blinding, deafing
So many girls like easy money
Takes so many bees to make the honey
And a lazy tongue doesn’t realize it
And a thrifty tongue is a wise woman’s treasure
Write really really big


The drummer’s ears are blown
I’m the next drummer
To march to the beat of a different drummer
Dance to the shimmy of a different sinner
Turn this facet fast feet fleet
Turn it right turn it wrong turn it blue turn it night
I’ve used up all my words
Not enough woulds left
Crushed by shoulds
As the NOTS came falling down
So does the stock market
Want to write and write and write and fill the world’s coffer

6. (Wendy and Jack)

Jack – We’ll write 5
poems. Each of us starts
with one line, passes it
clockwise, then fold
over top line after writing
the next line

I’ll keep this here!
You Catholics & Buddhists are everywhere!
It could be worse (gun mishap)
The wall is not even alive!
It’s dead now
Kathy said – “Walls have ears”
I said – “Not anymore”

– Smith, 6.26.2016









Mother Dwarf Smith, 11 years gone


Mother Dwarf died 11 years ago after living with me the last 16 of her 79 years. Lady K moved in 3 months later.

Mom had her 1st solo art show when she was 68, her 5th just before she died at 79.

the quantum collapse of Mother Dwarf Smith
13 April, 1926 – June 25, 2005
by son of Dwarf

I carried mom lately but she carried me first
so these 9 snippets for those 9 months

Do As You Would Be Done
Dead Cat Dead Pap Dead Dwarf Dismissed Sis Dead Baby & I
Sue Sick Sue
As Mother Dwarf Lay Dead and Dying
Death Dance
Good Rat Mom Prey Has No Name
The Flo Flow
Bye Bye Baby Bye Bye
Ash To Ash After

12th death day, 11 years gone
nine shorts at

– Smith, 6.25.2016

These are the stories that convinced Lady K there might be some depth to me.

See Mother Dwarf’s home page for art, shows, reviews


6-25-2016 Lady Poem

Learning’s germ for fertilizing
eyes and ears, a head a heart, a hand,
a pen’s milt on action’s platform,
and it goes around again

~ Lady

Donald Trump’s brain

donaldtrumpsbrainDonald Trump’s brain

I’m extremely happy with the 9 poems, 8 fotos and 1 song of mine that Medusa’s Kitchen posted this month. This is my 7th consecutive monthly feature in Kathy Kieth’s Kitchen, and I couldn’t be happier, especially since it appears to be a continuing gig.

The song is an example of werewolf rock – a lot of exuberant howls, growls, groans, moans.

A Few Scots Insult Donald Trump

You tit.

You spoon.

You moron.

You numpty.

You utter fool.

Oi, buttplug face.

You ignorant fuckmuppet.

You polyester cockwomble.

Ya hamster heedit bampot.

You weaselheaded fucknugget.

You mangled apricot hellbeast.

You witless fucking cocksplat!

You cock juggling thundercunt!

You incomprehensible jizztrumpet.

You leather faced, shit-tobogganist.

You tiny fingered, Cheeto-faced, ferret wearing shitgibbon.

– Smith, 6.24.2016

fordonaldtrumpfor Donald

Lady Poem 6-23-2016

Quartz glints hard in the eagle’s soft eye
flying over the lake’s scintillating stipple
sweep of wings one of time’s serene ways

From a canteen’s metal darkness
lightness is earned soft and wet
relief’s seeping drink

~ Lady

There are no final answers but if there were they’d be here


Status Report 221

Light leaks away at the end of day
as the sounds of street traffic
become wind, water,
the air softens
cooling sun’s kiss,
the slow lessening of light
muffling leaf and branch
land and sky
in the dim before dusk

There are no final answers
but if there were
they’d be here

– Smith, 6.23.2016