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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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Unmotivated towards blogging. Or explaining. Or exploring our culture. Lot of it has to do with having a blatant thief/rapist/pervert/liar as president #45. Some of it is since we came back to the US in 2009, folk aren’t as interested in what I have to say. Part is I now post 99% poetry and nobody gives a shit about poetry.

So of course here’s my next batch of poems from our 5-poet Februweary poem-a-day-a-thon featuring Mary E. Weems, Lady K. Smith, Ray McNiece, John Swain, and me.


Limbic System

1981 driving from Ohio winter
to Las Vegas sun to pick up my brother
while wasted on wine and grass and speed
and bone cold from Cleveland
I stopped at an Arizona roadside park
where the sun shone
climbed on top the biggest boulder
and laid on it
face down
arms stretched wide
hugging it lizard-like for warmth.

A car stopped
family got out
began walking towrds the rocks
then saw me raise my head and look at them.

They stopped
turned around
returned to car
and left.

– 2.12.2018


Philosophy 169

You live for the moments,
slog through the rest.

– 2.12.2018


Philosophy 170

More’s not always more,
nor less less.

More can be whore or adore,
less bless or mess.

– 2.12.2018


Sisyphus Sighs

Despair’s got teeth,
and swamp’s everywhere.

The rich eat the poor,
strip their cupboards bare.

Like Golden Hops & the 3 Beers
too much not enough.

Weighing want and need
kinda rough.

Two empty bottles
don’t a 6 pack make.

For true crime watch the rich
who take.

Liquid lick of like and love
eases pain of rot.

Rolling rock when no one can
takes the knot from not.

– 2.13.2018


Fame & Fortune

Walked the sand,
water washed my steps away.

Went on hightop dirt,
wind erased my strode.

Climb to mountain top,
rock wont take my print.

– 2.13.2018


Rock Uproll

Blood’s so red
I’m so dead
the life I led’s a whore

Quoth the craven evermore

Release this cloth
that leads such loss
to light like moth

And weigh the right of wrong

We walk the stairs
to higher wheres
seeking prayers

In search of sweeter song

So end of day
our do and say
maintains way

As we count up score

– 2.14.2018

~ ~ ~


The last sip of coffee coats my throat
with the warmth of an old overcoat

Night stacks dark on dark
for dreams to lighten

Day slides hope after hope
hiding in plain light

Life’s orchards become more fertile
at full moon and high tide

Let us outlast our shadow

– 2.14.2018

~ ~ ~

Winter’s discontent
assassinates summer
seeds spring

– 2.15.2018

~ ~ ~

In the Beginnings

The Void rose in the unrisin
and after creating black and grey
and fog and slow and fuzzy
and endless
and sad
“Let there be coffee”
and life began

– 2.15.2018

~ ~ ~

Heisenberg’s Uncertainty

Start and stop
is most of what we got

I mean
there’s direction or speed
want and need
hole in bleed
you know
the knot in not

Which leaves the cat dead
or alive
and we here
or there
(but only if someone’s looking)

Best guess less is more more or less
and all illusion anyway
weighted dice from the bones of the dead

– 2.15.2018

~ ~ ~

Anger Management

Everyday is Soylent Green
reduced down to fat or lean
in every way we’re nibbled nub
gnawed, declawed, wrongly rubbed
walking wall of wretched wry
to answer cattle call of lie
jerking here or working there
vector stresses everywhere
snubs and sharps and flats forlorn
fade in rush and gush of lore
till soft and dreamless sleep doth fall
to mend the rend that tends us all
hurry scurry worry more
strip your soul of moral core
doesn’t mean you’re a whore
but shouldn’t there be some soar
faster farther further flux
makes a difference how one struts
instead of pay to play or be called nut
jump on in and rub your rut
run to ragged rend of life
jumping over hurdle strife
protecting back from the knife
hiding anger running rife

– 2.16.2018

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