Night Train
Sun slants its leaving light
as it slips to night
so rooster’s cry
brings cool of dawn
heat hugs
the rich moist
the poor hot
in salt wet sweat abide
runble roll of train on track
heads for crow of cock
– Smith, 7.30.2017
Afterthought, 1996, Smith, 6.25″ x 5″
Offgrid, 2015, Smith, 5.5″ x 7.5″
On the Beach, 2015, Smith, 11″ x 14″
3 pieces of art, over 22 years. The blue is copper corrosion (which is translucent), the brown dress patterns, brown-orange is rust.
Status Report 258
Sad sad song sung bad bad bad
the remains of the not quite making sense
The lines lie north and south of truth
shaped by serious shadow
Black cat, black curtain
the cloth has claws
– Smith, 7.26.2017
On the Beach, 2015, Smith, 11″ x 14″
Offgrid, 2015, Smith, 5.5″ x 7.5″
Afterthought, 1996, Smith, 6.25″ x 5″
Lady K made an Alice-in-Wonderland themed 3-tiered cake for our niece’s 1-year birthday party. Each tier was a different flavor.
It was a hit.
Sometime soon I’ll be adding a gallery of Lady’s art cakes to agentofchaos.com. They’ve all been above and beyond.
The smaller cake is a smash cake, just for Liberty to enjoy. She smeared the icing over every surface, plopped her face into the icing, then pushed it onto the floor.
Fun was had by all.
Liberty Lynn Green’s 1st year birthday cake
7.22.2017 – cake, design, drawing by Lady K
left: East of the Sun, West of the Moon
20″ x 16″, December 2015, Smith
right: Voodoo Lounge, 1968, 20″ x 30″, Smith
Two of my art works, 49 years apart.
Fotos above are
East of the Sun, West of the Moon, December 2005
and
Voodoo Lounge, my first wall piece, 1968.
The blue is my mixture of copper corrosion. The action figure is Edgar Allen Poe with a raven on his shoulder.
Did my first piece of art in 1965. Still doing it.
First poem I still have is from 1964. Still doing it.
Going to try to post a piece or two every few days cuz folk have forgotten I do as much art as poetry.
The last solo Smith & Lady show was 2012 at the Mastroianni Gallery, titled Sacred Pulp – Two Dead Smiths, Two Live Smiths, featuring my dead mom Mother Dwarf (1926-2005), my dead brother Cat (1957-1987), my live wife Lady K, and me (current status enigmatic)
My brother Cat Smith blew his brains out at age 30 in the bed of his pickup due to too much alcohol, too much speed and coke, marriage problems, financial problems, the stress of trying to keep his and our father’s Brick/Block/Stone mason business going in light of Pappy’s decaying health, and maybe perhaps starting drugs too young – he was 11 when he first dropped acid in high school. I was 21 when I started drugs, had a chance to ripen before diving in.
Fair Trade
I don’t always turn the other cheek,
sometimes I slap back.
And I always forgive,
but never forget.
So beware,
fair is fair.
– Smith, 7.21.2017
Fotos below:
word piece is Voodoo Lounge, 1968, 20″ x 30″, Smith
blue piece is East of the Sun, West of the Moon
20″ x 16″, December 2015, Smith
Fotos above:
word piece is Voodoo Lounge, 1968, 20″ x 30″, Smith
blue piece is East of the Sun, West of the Moon
20″ x 16″, December 2015, Smith
Life in the Smith Lane
Crickets creep between cars
in not quite night
their soothing sound attending ghost
of then and them and now
matching most of me somehow
Saw an I-90W sign saying
“Drug Activity / Impaired Driving
Call This Number”
so I did
said I was interested in some drug activity…
it didn’t go well
Roads outside this window
goin’ places doin’ things
with a lot less cussin’
and fussin’ and cheatin’ moan
that’s where I wanna roam
Late at night
we drive into deep wood
to camp way off grid
nada on GPS screen
gas near empty
next morning turn wrong way
go further into no-one-home land
fuel light starts cursing
the film Deliverance runs in my mind
so we give up
turn around
retrace tracks
finally find gas
and small town library with wifi
get go again
add new rule to list:
don’t wait to tomorrow
to refill strange territory today
Friday – $350 for muffler
Monday – $550 front wheel bearings
Nowday – pain anguish anger depression
there goes the rent money
and my marijuana
White line black top
pedal metal heavy through
go of tomorrow
awash in sorrow
and chance
– Smith, 7.18.2017
bladerunner
Balance
Day and night come and go
wet dances with dry
old seeps through new.
The dead outnumber us
feed the living
canceled checks.
I still take new day’s step
most hopeful, and yet
look for the lance.
Which coming kiss or curse
or hug or worse
will decide my stance?
– Smith, 7.15.2017
e-line
Sisyphus After All
It’s not all rock
there’s the exquisite relief of quitting time
dragging dead flesh twixt hill and home
to swallow cold food
before tepid bath and bed
and the dreamless ache of sleep
where eyes closed in dark
wake in same dark
at alarum’s croaker cry
to rise again
stack old bones on new pains
then limp to manual mountain
and hope against logic for gain
– Smith, 7.13.2017
got it locked away
Happy Sandwich
Beauty’s the butterfly of age,
age the flower of youth.
Catching up to the rat wheel
takes money, time, desire,
and I’m short all three.
Invisible patty-cakes on the Zen back of night,
or the sad middle notes of an old 50’s song?
Both fine soundtracks
for yet another Walking Monkey Production
(believe it’s the old-timers with Alzheimer’s
who’re running the show).
Still, the setting sun climbs the tree
lays along its leaves
and watches layered light
sink slow below the surface
of our 3rd floor Victorian window
and I feel eased.
Go eased, young ma’am, go eased.
– Smith, 7.11.2017
The Coffee Bin
(18 pocket notes for future poems)
Does one consume the reflections
floating atop one’s cup of black coffee?
If so I’m only drinking
at the Neon Diner from now on
get more buzz per cup
Ching ching ching goes the coffee
slow slow slow goes the will
must coffee clink before brain links
That’s a poor pour
so pour more
more caffeine
pour faster so I’ll walk faster
and won’t fall
gotta go gotta go gotta go
cant stop cant stop
or rat wheel will rust
and we’ll all fall down
like sadsack clowns
limp in limb
laying around
let’s fill my form with vroom
gimme some Zen zoom
caffeinate me over the hill
in mind/body will
3 pm
time to lose or chose
third cup of coffee or no
knowing I’ve no weed
to slow caffeine’s carom
My, my, hot milk and honey chai
stained masala beige
a dance for tongue and caffeinated mind
Thanks for the buzz
Thanks for the love
Coffee, marijuana, cat, and wife
I have a nice life
Caffeine rings my ears
buzzes brain
electric exclaim
Weak cup coffee to pry my weary lids open
this freezing so-called spring morning
with weed running out and money not enough
and wife stressed with boss-lady worries
and the cat wheezing much and vomiting often
and the politicians in a race downhill
to dumber meaner cheaper
and decent folk so amazed not to be
locked away in concentration camps
they keep their head down and fear unsaid
Ahhhh, the first sip of pre-dawn coffee
the first toke of pre-dawn grass
Black pool of night before sun
surrounds as I drink black pool
of coffee in cup
Caffeine in my brain
need in my node
Drinking coffee from Kathy’s cup
it’s another day in Paradise
in the temple of the ample
Brain fuzzy cuzza not enough coffee
The push of coffee, the pull of grass,
the swoosh and soothe all bound
around untight to firmer ground
A black cup of black coffee
raised to my white face
And if you really want to up the ante
try a cup of cowboy Costa Rican pan coffee
Fair Trade of course.
Neon Coffee, please
– Smith, 7.8.2017
Status Report 257
Some days
it’s the space between pages
the silence before sound
the tip of the tongue
just out of reach
you can almost taste it
the one that got away
in happy never after
worry worn as won
Sometimes fire plays with wood
just licks and leaves
licks and leaves
until it gets a taste
and chomps
– Smith, 7.7.2017
