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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 )
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Archive for October, 2017
Thursday, October 26th, 2017

Black Cat Koan
The cat circles in,
around,
lays down.
Looks at me
with languid eyes,
sighs.
Sleeps to dream
food love scheme
purrfection.
To her we be
serving slaving feeding playing giving
petting cleaning station
(and oft
soft source of heat).
Neat replete cool cat suite.
– Smith, 10.26.2017

Posted in Photography, Poetry | No Comments »
Wednesday, October 25th, 2017

Post Hoc Ergo Propter Hoc
The lie
“After this, therefore because of this”
is true
cuz treadmill don’t stop
stomach don’t quit
rent don’t go away
no winner’s circle
no golden ring
and the view down the road
looks to be a bad disaster movie
with its tacky tawdry
unfun unfair
one more Zen joke on folk
so it’s down to mirrors and moments:
who do you see in the mirror in the morning
when you hold your moments close?
– Smith, 10.25.2017

Posted in Photography, Poetry | No Comments »
Monday, October 23rd, 2017

Checklist Sisyphus
Coffee’s got a bit of kick to it
this pre-sunrise
so there’s hope in the gloom
Pain’s not as sharp as it was
as I compare today’s rock
to today’s hill
Have some stuff
lost lots more
along the way
Comes down to friends
family
pets
Mixed with sun, wind, rain, clouds,
sky, now, then, when,
why
And pain
of course
and pain
But stringing it all together
is the smile
getting us through this darkness
And the laugh
of course
leaking between the seem
– Smith, 10.23.2017

Posted in Photography, Poetry | No Comments »
Sunday, October 22nd, 2017

When I walk, my right arm thumps against my side, large, hard, like a massive weight lifter’s appendage, but this hard and heavy isn’t from exercise but rather swollen flesh protesting the knives and saws and pryings screwings bruisings of my second shoulder replacement.
Major change in pain pill philosophy. My two days in the hospital they gave me three 5 mg oxycodone pills every 4 hours, sometimes tossing in an injection of dilaudid as well. So one day in hospital was 24 pills. They released me with a prescription for one pill every six hours, or 4 pills per day. Fortunately this time it’s all low level pain, so I can manage. Bit hypocritical of them though.
~
Conversation with Wife 38
“Is penultimate the power of the pen?”
she ponders.
“Our salad was good,
the goat cheese, red onions and apples had synergy.”
Original synergy?
What’s choux?
“I think it’s an eggy dough.”
Didn’t Eggy Dough record with Iggy Pop?
“OK, you know what…” she starts.
I used to know What,
I dated his daughter, young Why.
She was a handful.
“What are we going to do about these hurricanes?”
Change the name to himicanes, let em go impotant.
“You know who drove the Doors? – Van Morrison.”
Where’d the fun go?
“Down the funnel.”
– Smith, 10.22.2017

Posted in health, Humor, Lady, Photography, Poetry | No Comments »
Monday, October 16th, 2017

my 7 day old right shoulder replacement w/ 24 staples
A recent poem by Lady K.
~
Dry yellow pages and cool glossy lithographs
sheep, pastoral scenes, assembled figures in stately robes
blood like wine from years like vines
a finger of oil poured on the head and similar pastimes
of ancient lamps, mirrors and perfections
or the confused castings of blank arrows
side glances of Rubenesque faces
noble lips that pick at berries
Almonds from rods
nocturnes, starlight, sand and the purity of a concept of water
just trickles slacken thirst
God takes respite low in a cave, cool dirt clean feet
listens to Mother Earth sing fecundity’s forgiveness
speak low thunder
wild pagan violin
– Lady, 10.14.2017




Posted in health, Lady, Photography, Poetry | No Comments »
Friday, October 13th, 2017

Spirit, Bone, Body, Mind
Spirit and bone, bone and spirit –
which the rein, which the stirrup?
Bone in body, body round bone –
which one jester, which one throne?
Right hand laughs as left goes long
cuz nothing’s right, nothing’s wrong,
Two left feet or lack of spine?
Neither one’s a crime.
Mind or brain or mental gain
depend on aim of game.
Your multiple choice questions –
don’t leave answer, just suggestion.
– Smith, 10.13.2017

Posted in Photography, Poetry | No Comments »
Monday, October 9th, 2017

Life with Wife 6
My wife’s out with two lesbian friends
while I’m at home.
Am I worried?
No.
For though I am a lousy lover,
I still make her laugh.
– Smith, 10.8.2017
~ ~ ~
Chopped & Channeled
I.
Back into the body shop
tomorrow
this time to slice open right shoulder,
cut a few muscles,
pry aside others,
screw a ball joint to my cup joint,
cut ball joint off arm bone
and jam a cup joint in its hollow
so shoulder’s upside down,
release some muscles,
sew others,
close up surface,
keep me overnight,
send me home
with new cobalt and chrome shoulder
to go with
my other cobalt chrome shouder,
cobalt rods in neck,
and titanium ceramic hip.
Maybe get a job testing metal detectors
flor Homeland Thuggery
since I’ve already set some off
with just the hip
so I’d be neck and shoulders above the rest.
II.
Ir’s said
if you hurt, you’re alive.
I must be right lively then
considering my years and tears.
Though too much joy along the way
for sad to add to much.
– Smith, 10.9.2017

Posted in health, Lady, Photography, Poetry | No Comments »
Wednesday, October 4th, 2017

Fear & Love in Los Cleveland
20″ x 14″ x 4″, 2010, Smith
A few shots of “Fear & Love in Los Cleveland” from 2010 I did for a Shawn Mishk show at Doubting Thomas Gallery.
~
Could be turning this into a song; friend sez he can write some 12-bar blues for it. So, somewhere down the timeline…
Slow Talkin’ Blues
Well I talk to myself
I answer too
yes I talk to myself
and answer too
no one understands
why I do what I do
Moon up high
covers cold cold ground
yes moon up sky
casts no warmth down
if I don’t talk to myself
won’t be no sound
It’s said the Devil’s tongue
packs a wicked wit
while an angel’s wings
don’t always fit
some further heaven
some feather pit
Folk yak at me
their words got no life
folk flap their if
make whole buncha strife
so I gotta ask
why you spout such tripe?
You got a mouth
even a mom won’t kiss
your crap smothers
all kinds of bliss
why you wanna
muck around like this?
I gotta say
things aint quite right
too many stray
in lack of light
yet you say go way
tend my own blight
If I don’t talk
there ain’t no sound
just endless walk
round this nowhere ground
but when I do
I sound like a clown
– Smith, 10.4.2017






Fear & Love in Los Cleveland
20″ x 14″ x 4″, 2010, Smith
Posted in Art, Photography, Poetry | No Comments »
Sunday, October 1st, 2017

Philosophy 167
Many paths.
Many mountains.
Many valleys.
Many steps.
Yet one.
~
Philosophy 168
Hope to outgrow
what I cannot outrun.
The ache of break
from dream to wake.
– Smith, 10.1.2017

Posted in Philosophy, Photography, Poetry | No Comments »
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