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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 the ‘Creative Writing’ Category
Sunday, January 13th, 2019
Yes, erumpent fireflies warmed hands
on xanthous flames fireplaced in a
viperiform damascene hagioscope
gripping the reredos
Girandoled discoball constellations
yogiboogeyboarded swimming pool lights,
dog and ponied interstices of the ceiling joists
zoopraxiscoped herds of variegated animals,
the alopecoid and hares, all manners
of dazzling English animals
The nickle nutlets of teeth in
jellygraph gloss of a dead lamb’s grin,
closed eyelids, japan painted blunt nose
nuque broke, visceral ladled nup of bent innocent colliform
draped on a chair, the Inuit their kamiks
Corpulant agriculture was fecund
on plates we left for morning after Christmas,
wastive abundance, frapped humanity
in ruddy hardihood consecrated by
the rabbi we called in;
the comrade donned a biretta
the webster sat under the vesper
it was a mixed bag, fingers bewildered in
nodated whatevers, que sera sera-ing,
the cows munched their kerf
it was ok it was the weather
The validity of vermiculture,
of worksome insects typing logopedics,
rosining translucent violins withily weaving
wirewove niello of the organized whole
~ Lady
Posted in Being, Creative Writing, Family, Food, Humor, Lady, Letters to the Universe, life, Peace, Poetry, spirituality, weather | No Comments »
Friday, July 6th, 2018
A delirium of talk
from my head to my heart
tight burn hollows of shoulders
dog breath, a panicked cat
bird in the throat
bird in the ear
bird in the eyes
bird brain
Friday night
~ Lady
Posted in america, Art, Being, Conversations, couples, Creative Writing, Lady, ladymemoir, Letters to the Universe, On Writing, Poetry | No Comments »
Sunday, September 6th, 2015
We took the first hour of 4 and manned the SPACES Gallery poetry tent across from the West Side Market yesterday. Folk would walk up, we’d ask their name, a few questions, then write a free poem for them. We wrote 18 in an hour, so we each had 7 minutes max to question, write, fotograf, and give. Fascinating process . . . fast, fun, little time for depth, more a process of impressionistic reportage.
It was a blast, especially due to the two children who received poems — our 1st customer was Audrey, 4-yrs old, who also took our spaghetti squash I’d drawn a funny face on.
Our first 4 folk had names starting with A, as did numbers 6, 7, and 12 so the A’s, about 4% of the alphabet, took 39% of our output.
Thanks to SPACES staff Mimi Kato and Marilyn Ladd-Simmons for their prep work, hosting, direction, and encouragement. And thanks to our friend, teacher, ceramicist, and neighbor Angelica Pozo for asking Lady & I to participate in this.
Pedestrian Poetry by the People, Smith shift, 2015
SPACES Gallery hosted a bazaar tent where folk could sit,
tell us their name, a bit about themselves. and we’d write
a quick poem for them. Lady & I had first shift 10-11 in hot
sun under blue sky in open air square across from the West
Side Market. First of 18 seekers was 4 yr old Audrey who
took the free spaghetti squash with a crazed face I had
drawn, then asked me to write “Sally” across the front.
AUDREY
Audrey who loves spaghetti squash
She named her “Sally”
It’s a beautiful blue day
Just as beautiful as Audrey
~
APRIL
Bright as month
of river running
sun shining
birds winging
~
ANN
A beautiful day
Sky-high with potential
Fresh start at the
West Side market
Weekend like going to
a restaurant & sharing
a bunch of appetizers
What more of a great
Start to September
Could one want?
~
AMIE
Because she said
she would
as she walked
in the sun
we did
(she was wearing a t-shirt that said
I Said I Would So I Did)
~
MITZI
Mitzie & Amie on a
hot as balls day
Bright blue sky
without even a trace
of contrail
Hot – like summer
finally purchasing claim
on its season
Today we have not a
care in the world
~
AL
Al & Amie & April
& Mitzi walking park
in sun with poem
people . . . .
may your flux be fine
~
ANGELA
While you’re in Cleveland
Catch the poetic wind by
chance
Like spiders strapping themselves
to a string of web
& leaping – wind carrying
them to a destination
Cool little city on a hot day
Bright blue promising sky
Like a present for everyone
– travel
~
TIPAKORN
Gorgeous name
carries wind of promise
adventure pure
in lands of sun
and shine
and light rain
(he mentioned after his name has to do with the sun)
~
BENJAPORN
It is a day
of special names,
beautiful names,
people flowers flowing
in market square . . .
sun rising
~
LILY
What a treasure to meet
an adventurer – Lily from
Thailand
Sky high in blue clarity
Crepes in hand, sweet-or-savory?
All I can do is draw from
my own memories of travel –
& of living in an unfamiliar
place
And then the pleasure of feeling
it slowly becoming my own
~
BLAKE
Blake from the up-down city of
Detroit – visiting the up=down
city of Cleveland
Both cities laden with urban
decay for urban explorers –
cities of salt, rust, and some
unmown grass
Promises in new construction,
kindled interest – monied interests –
we hold our own pockets open &
hope! For kinds of rain.
~
LYNN
For family & friends
and southeast side
excursion to the Market
and gathering of clan
circling the falling
to catch up with laughter
& learning in sum
~
AIDI
Eating bread from Market
in her stroller fair
blue eyes target
beneath golden hair
MEGAN
Artistic neighbors meet at
beloved community spot –
Market Square – food,
tents, people with a bit of
spare time
Megan & Aidi – sharing a
memory in the making Aidi
will remember the rest of
her life – these similar
moments – time with
Mom, the community of
female friends
~
STEVE
Steve to Steve
from Tampa to Cleveland
Welcome
may your flux flow
and feel be fine
cuz any friend of Rafeeq
is fine to find
~
JENNIFER
Welcome back, welcome back to
the puppy dog people of Cleveland
salt of the earth, prone to hellos
& self-deprecating answers
How familiarity is like a warm
bath, a kind of indulgence –
& maybe you are thinking, “Oh –
I can come home again – &
this is what it’s like!”
Cleveland-to-Tampa-to-Cleveland
again couple
~
LORETTA
From Toledo to the Market
with marriage down the road
Sun & sisters & folks
& friends
from art to food to friends
Welcome
to Cleveland
~
ELLIOTT
Familiar – from another northern
Ohio city – Toledo! So happy
to meet you, neighbors!
Like sausage gravy & biscuits –
Like where one is comfortable –
Sampling the degree of
separation from here to there –
Thinking – “We should do this
more again!”
Thinking – “So many places in
Ohio”
Taking life like seizing the day
– Smith & Lady, 9.5.2015
us with Amie & Mitzi – foto by Mimi Kato of SPACES Gallery
After our shift, Lady asked Mimi Kato to write a haiku in Japanese for Lady’s next online issue of TheCityPoetry.com. We are going to take time to test time to see how we find out what it means down the road.
Mimi Kato
Posted in Art, cleveland, couples, Creative Writing, creativity, Family, Lady, On Writing, Photography, Poetry | No Comments »
Wednesday, February 11th, 2015
King hailed angels
of the moral order
amaranthine beatitude
to our ears
Our keys
are launched by dream
like cacheted letters
carried on the stately talons
of a giant eagle
casting wings
A promise
of our conscience
has come due
~ Lady
Posted in Being, Creative Writing, dreams, ethics, Lady, Letters to the Universe, life, Peace, Philosophy, Poetry, Relationships, spirituality | No Comments »
Sunday, February 8th, 2015
Cupid flies on a zephyr
from Lagos, ruby lips homing in
to set things better
Collective psyche poses
modern dancer static fingers
splayed in stance, tender by the
velour waiting for the shape
of change, Leda and
her heat to shine
~ Lady
Posted in Being, Creative Writing, Environment, ethics, Lady, Letters to the Universe, life, Peace, Philosophy, Poetry, Relationships, spirituality | No Comments »
Tuesday, October 29th, 2013
ELF LADY
Peeling back the avalanche
the headache
the blizzard
the overflowing inbox
the incidents of the nuts & bolts
of dealing with life–
all those card hands
I’m putting all those card hands
in file drawers in their various positions
paperclipped in place
so I can come back to them
later, refreshed, so I can deal
with what’s been dealt better
more gently with myself
yet just kinda crunch
through it
or even let my fellow elves
go to work on it
(I am part elf)
When those cards are filed
or even just left in place
on the table
or left to compost
for the other elves to turn
I’m getting replenishing
I’m getting nourishment
I’m getting energy
I’m getting relief
I’m going to church
I’m going to meditate
I’m going to eat good food
I’m going to train my legs
on the trail
I’m growing more trees
on the watershed of me
to harbor life, livelihood
keep stock alive
The elves are sitting back
relaxed, too, after their workday
We’re investing in ourselves
We’re doing things in the present
that we are to do to value the now
and the future, me & the elves
~ Lady
Posted in Being, Creative Writing, Humor, Lady, ladymemoir, Letters to the Universe, life, Peace, Philosophy, Poetry, Relationships | 1 Comment »
Wednesday, August 7th, 2013
SOME WORK
They say
the grasshopper
didn’t do it
But I’ve seen
grasshopper industry
I’ve seen
insects of orchestras
folding, thrumming and vibing
grasshopper there with the rest of ’em,
singing his leg on forewing
sexy
How one can carry an instrument
with them
How voice can be like a leg
like an arm
for what you need to do
Voice
voice in void voids void
A fish splashing in itself
A satellite broadcasting
some kind of rain
An umbrella for a spot
Or an antenna
A key
Flash lightning
Opera
An opera singer
doesn’t have to carry
a suitcase
for her things,
just sing and sing
Like the grasshopper
zinging along its thing
on a string
Someone at home with
herself, in herself,
herself home
Carrying all her worldly
possessions zipped
in her own self world
Finding vast velvet
when convenient
She lets things open
fallow, fertile
future replete
Sung, sing, will dip
and sing again
~ Lady
Posted in Being, Creative Writing, Lady, ladymemoir, Letters to the Universe, life, Peace, Philosophy, Poetry, Relationships, spirituality, Stories, zen | No Comments »
Monday, August 5th, 2013
detail Smith sculpture – foto Smith
What would Jack do?
Reading Jack Keroauc’s truth-disguised-as-fiction “Tristessa” (1960) which I hadn’t known about until I bought it used from Guide to Kulchur for $5.
Kerouac was my main driver of yearning for adventure and travel ever since my 17 yr-old self read “On the Road” in 1963 and it inspired a fire to go to Mexico and smoke dope.
Took me four years to find marijuana, two more months to put a needle in my arm, 44 years to hit Marrakech and six months more for Mexico.
Now I read his adventures and think, hmmm, getting drunk, done that . . . smoking grass, yup . . . joy riding, yes . . . mainlining, been there . . . smoking opium, of course . . . hash in Morocco mushrooms in Mexico, uh huh . . . walking Zen trail, still dabble.
But the one thing I did poor Jack didn’t was pass through the maelstrom of alcohol and needles and snorting and sniffing and popping.
I ended up drinking myself to death 22 years ago and haven’t imbibed since, stopped needles 14 years ago, quit cocaine three years later, and discovered a couple years ago during my hip replacement I no longer enjoy pills.
So I’m down to 2 cups strong coffee daily and grass anytime I have the chance. Last did LSD in 1985 and magic mushrooms down in Mexico 5 years ago, though I’ll do both again in ten years or so.
Find that Jack’s words which excited my 17 yr self now seem tame, shallow, but still the initial thrill that primed my adventure pump by showing there was more out there than suits, suburbs, TV.
What he did and wrote was important because he did it first and he did it well. He hopped the Beat train before it left the station, before it even had a destination. Unfortunately he drunkenly stumbled off part way thru the journey to go home, live with mom, drink himself to death, losing his mad holy light while railing at those still riding, especially the (to him) free loading hippies who hadn’t earned a ticket.
That’s the second thing I did Jack didn’t – I stayed on the train. There’s a third string we have in common . . . we both drank ourselves to a bleeding throat ulcer which killed us, except I rose the third day and walked home sober.
What he did isn’t lessened by later because we’re all weak and constantly stray quit fail walk away, so thanks Jack for the journey. You are my original light, and I cherish your burnt-out bulb. You turned America to the possibility of leaving the sheep pen and having exotic adventures. You also showed us failure.
Both are lessons to use.
2 from Guide to Kulchur – foto Smith
London, 2006 – foto Smith
Posted in america, Being, Bio, Creative Writing, Mexico, Morocco, On Writing, writing | 1 Comment »
Thursday, May 30th, 2013
(I didn’t know my reality was in holding mode, initial conditions mode left to mold. It was waiting for me and I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know it.)
(And we left the country in 2006, and we initiated our big Quest even though we didn’t know we were on one… well, if only to make art and have adventures in a kind of artistic and for me, initially, mostly secular way. Zzzzzzzz…..)
(And I found crazy sane magic, non-secular magic. I found ghosts. I thought I was crazy and not. I am not crazy, OK? I am not. I am one of the most lucid narrators in this glob, this moshpit of whateverness that we’re making into i-care-for-it-ed-ness.)
Where is this going? The Quest.
We were invited to Minneapolis to participate in a reading last weekend about outlaw poetry–“Wanted.” It felt like kindling the Quest again to me–our combined part of the Quest.
(I plucked fistfuls of clover and distributed them to poets and passers-by. The men who go to work and eat at the pantry on our street, West 14th. I wrote letters and sent them to grieving folk and prisoners. I would rather write letters for the purpose of poetry and celebration because I don’t want anyone to be sad circumstance. An abundance of letters to help along happiness.)
(I helped with the production of Matter Ring. The reading being named “Wanted” and the book by friend on mattering topic jives.)
And we set out.
I drew a picture of myself, a version carrying the shield of clover, bees abuzz around me, Excalibur truth wielding. Me, fairy, part of God/Reality.
I found out stuff about clovers and the pernicious nature of the idea of dualism. Clover in Illinois saving the environment, Shamrock in Mentor not-so-much-saving-it. Businesses wielding the shield of clover. Clover itself always good.
And I forgot about the “we” part and thought about the “I” part, and on my BIG TO-DO LIST is to figure out the we part in this picture. I am thinking/have always thought that Smith is Merlin. And I am quester, and I am Lady-of-the-Lake.
I found out about clover lawns and am ever an enthusiast of permaculture.
Bees! The story!
The story is that in short, there were storytellers there, and this is kind of a detective story and a quest. Aren’t all? And isn’t the search for the Holy Grail a detective story? And isn’t it about the land, how we are the land, how we are royal?
I worship Your Royal Highnesses the Bee Queens. Who knew that people were at the mercy of bee queens and their workers? Is it a matter of pulling up the fabric and seeing the relationship at that point? Can all points worship all other points and be worshipped as well?
The story is a winding stream that we are helping be healthy with many habitats for wildnesses. Streams buttressed with living carpet, plant blanket. The outlaw part has something to do with the story… living in nature but following higher law, law of out-of-dooredness. Marijuana figuring prominently in so many outlaw poets’ tales.
What is the spirit of plants–what is the spirit of clover and what is the spirit of marijuana?
. . .
A bee inspected me yesterday when I went outside. It hovered there, and inspected me. It tried to come inside, too.
. . .
Is it then not Quest, but Story? Is writing Story the Quest? What is it, from what point do I pick it up this big gob, this kaleidoscope?
~ Lady
Tags: bees, clover, Minneapolis, Quest
Posted in Being, couples, Creative Writing, creativity, dreams, Environment, Lady, ladymemoir, Letters to the Universe, Poetry, Relationships, smith & Lady, spirituality, Stories, Travel Notes | 2 Comments »
Thursday, May 23rd, 2013
“First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.”
~ Donovan
Dear Beings of the Universe/Good Luck Charmers,
The moon is full. We are on the Quest. We set off this morning, our little quest within the big Quest. We are going to Fairyland, which is good because I am not just Lady, I am a fairy. We will tell the beings in the basement under Fairyland our stories from Stations of the Lost and Found.
This Fairyland we’re going to is in Minneapolis. On the way, we are stopping in Elgin:
- Much of Elgin is in the county of Kane.
- Elgin National Watch Company’s logo features Father Time.
- Elgin has a Symphony Orchestra and some examples of homes in the Queen Anne style.
- The Indian Removal Act of 1820 and the Black Hawk Indian War of 1832 led to the expulsion of Native Americans who had settlements and burial mounds in the area.
So that Act was 193 years ago, basically, two or three lifespans ago, roughly 8 generations ago. How could one possibly justify the expulsion of Native Americans? What were the settlers thinking? And so overtly, too: the Indian “Removal Act.” It led to the Trail of Tears. Interestingly, many ethical Christians protested the act.
So there’s this potpourri of information that one can dig into—what parts of it apply to the Quest?
What I know:
- I am a fairy and we are going to Fairyland.
- I was asked to ask Brahman to stop the suffering of Samsara. This is part of my long quest and what I was told in the Dream.
- I am Lady of the Church of Not Quite So Much Pain & Suffering.
- Native Americans figure.
I like time and the thought of going West on a quest. East, too, but I’ve been more East than West.
Peace & blessings & love,
Lady
P.S.: I would like to leave you here with a Bree poem from the new Matter Ring:
The Riser
 You are the bartender salting the rim
of the earth. You are shaking things up,
good company.
You are the hostess the whole room
rounding while we straighten our shirts
in the mirror moon easily makes
of your eyes,
good company.
The salesman on the ready, always, you
make something out of us, like it was
no thing, this us. And this is us waiting.
We are what we make of each others army.
And you time things right, ever the
doorman, you of the first infantry, opening
into us, you also pull away from us, and off
of us rise.
~ Bree
Tags: Donovan, Elgin, Fairyland, Minneapolis, Minnesota, Native Americans, Quest, Stations
Posted in Art, Bio, couples, Creative Writing, creativity, dreams, Events, Lady, ladymemoir, Letters to the Universe, Philosophy, Poetry, Relationships, smith & Lady, spirituality, Travel Notes | No Comments »
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