Blog Home Agent of Chaos City Poetry Zine Buy Stuff!
...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 )

Archive for the ‘Food’ Category

Jan. 10, 2015 Poem by Lady

Saturday, January 10th, 2015


Like the fairy tales I packed cheese, bread, drink
And jam, buttoned my locally-made shirt and
Knew the source of everything I carried,
A proud container of a universe

I locked the door with my fresh washed face,
Walked down the street where I’d deigned to meet
Every neighbor, pleased with my strong legs
And the proficiency of my backpack

In the woods my mind was resonant with
candled halos of learning I’d nurtured
Like first spring food for bees is sugar maple
and the nesting habits of the eagle

More than trickles always there to sate a
Pleasant burn, the upkeep of good cheer

~ Lady




Thursday, November 20th, 2014


Sunshine mind
in a dark house, thousands
of sisters, brothers
and my mom

Honey all winter long

~ Lady



Tuesday, August 19th, 2014


Save paradise, the old elements:
draughts of water sweet as nectar
air, the thinking of which entering our lungs
an immediately accessible way to feel peace
productive soil, satisfaction of scooping it in
the hand, aroma rich as freshly ground coffee
judiciously kindled fire–a great comfort

And the spectrum of fruits from dripping peaches
to Katie’s cherry plunked buckets
conjuring handy old words
like larders and pantries,
bushels and baskets,
pints and jars

Civilization has great role
for Nature

Civilization unspread on gingham from
a picnic basket sitting by a creek
in a well-managed watershed

Air fired in our lungs and liquid
jewel of water perpetually sprung from
taps of lakes, rivers and reservoirs
happy and clean via exercise of
regulations and

Soil composted
on the lattice of organic learning
principles of agriculture revisited
cherry-picking best practices
from old… and new

~ Lady


Conversation with Wife 5

Thursday, August 7th, 2014

Conversation with Wife 5

No, not my fifth wife,
only have two of those,
fifth conversation with second wife.

Lady song sings
“Two pies have I,
one to enter, one to try,
one to eat, one to send
to the judge in hope of win,
so let us pick, let us begin.”

As she rolls the ball dough down I wonder
What do the pie dough people think
as you roll their world flatter and flatter?

She relies
“On planet Pie Dough
they hang Doughnot Disturb on their hotel dough-knobs,
the main dog is the doughmation,
charities call for doughnations,
martial arts masters are known as doughjos,
buildings are built from adoughby,
their main toy Pie-doh,
favorite philosopher Pladough,
they smoke doughp rolled in doughbies
and take drugs for the doughsage
as doughs drilled by big bucks drop fawns.”

You dough know what you’re doing, I drawl.

“Dough mess with me,”
she dosi-doughs, dip-doughing around,
“for I have the flour,”
she tones in her Yodough voice.

– Smith, 8.7.2014


sticky wicket mercy

Tuesday, July 22nd, 2014

Sopping wet from sweat from bicycling 61 blocks on an errand of mercy, then back again.

Months ago Lady with her ever kind and giving Ladyheart gave a lift to someone less fortunate. Later that night she and I took over some food to him at his apartment and gave him and his urine soaked trousers a ride to the free church dinner.

Lady called Meals On Wheels to see if they could feed him and they said have him call so we went back and loaned him her fone but the gentleman in need got feisty with all the questions and when they asked if he had trouble getting around, he snapped “I get around fine. I use a cane but it’s a fashion statement.” Since Meals On Wheels is for those having trouble ambulating, they turned him down. The man definitely has trouble getting around and basically cut off his nose to spite their authoritarian face.

Friday I recorded a tune with Peter and forgot to turn my fone back on afterward. Friday night I get a voice message saying he’d like to talk to us. Go over Saturday but he’s not there so Lady leaves her jar of fresh canned blueberry jam and a bag of food in his door.

Lady gets a couple more voice mails asking if she’d taxi him someplace.

This morning I find another voice message from last night, call him back and get “Sorry, voice mail box is full, go away.” Get another voice mail from him from another number and call back and get a third party who is not exactly nice, doesn’t seem to understand what I say, and hangs up.

Get curious why I’m not hearing my fone ring and discover my fone’s still off, so since Lady’s at work with the car and I know what it’s like to be in trouble and need a hand, I bicycle 61 blocks in the hot sun.

We talk. He doesn’t remember me because I’m not with Lady. Ask him why he called and he said he’s out of money and he thinks if he can get hold of Steve & Kathy, they’ll lend him some. I say “I’m the Steve of Steve and Kathy.” He hadn’t recognized me because I’m not with Lady.

I explain we are on limited income and can’t be his patron. He says he gets $1,000 a month from disability (he’s 83) and his rent is only $230. I ask, “If you get that much, why are you in trouble every month?” “I donno, I do stupid things,” he replies. He doesn’t drink alcohol or do drugs, so I don’t know what’s going on.

I tell him he cannot call us to ask for money or rides, and he says it’s good to know that. He’s quite a nice old man, I like him, but I can’t even afford to buy a little grass for myself so certainly can’t afford to raise him – besides, he’s 15 years older than I am.

I explain to him how he messed up on the Meals On Wheels because he insisted he had no trouble getting around. He says he meant he can get around the block he lives on, but not to the church serving free food. So we agreed that if Lady will call Meals On Wheels back and try to explain he was confused when he answered and ask if he can interview again, he’ll give less prideful answers. She says she’ll call them again, so we’ll see.

Then I gave him $7 and bicycled back in the heat.

Moral of story? Be careful to whom you give your fone#, and be aware that helping others sometimes is like trying to rescue flies willfully stuck to flypaper – you might get stuck yourself cuz it’s all one great sticky wicket.

Still, is better to try to help than harden one’s heart . . . otherwise you end up like Bland Paul or Mutt Romney or Ted Cruel, which is NOT a pretty picture.

(Took these two fotos on my bicycle way back home today . . . on the same car)


Out at the In-laws 9

Tuesday, April 22nd, 2014

Lady’s Dali

Out at the In-laws 9

I look at my notes
and there’s no poem here
except everything’s a poem
we’re all poems
coupled in free verse rhyme
like the time I dated a poem-poem girl
who dumped me when my palms grew hair
but that’s not fair
not here
not there
for here the near is Easter flair
out in in-laws’ lair
with charoset smear
on matzo crackers near
kosher ham and jam and beer
and most excellent potato salad
made like an Irish ballad
in Leprechaun home
which is closer to poem
but no fell jell which is swell
since Lady says tell
“big sloppy doggie walkie”
of Miles the dog of humongous mass
and tail-wagged ass
and largest heart of love in charge
in house of folk who drink and talk
and laugh and eat and fly and walk
most holidays and daze between
as life flows around in streams
which whirl in forge of poem when done
but missing much
especially such the sun bathed face
and fire sculpture burned
and piano played at stately pace
and madness of return
so no I know there’s no poem here
it’s all been done and gone
yet bend in near and shed a tear
for one lost song gone wrong

– Smith, 4.22.2014



Thursday, March 6th, 2014


Suppose you’d never cooked for yourself
or others, you just microwaved your meals

And then suddenly, you had an epiphany
and opened a book or someone
taught you some things

And there you are making
all manners of good stuff

That’s like being lifted onto
a new, better plateau
all of a sudden

And suppose by some grace of God
like a reprieve, you found yourself delivered
to a park with your partner or family member
or friend and out of their pocket
comes a fruit in sections
for sharing

And the wind, be it
gentle or something to
be endured–it’s a delight
because you are finding your
animal self again outside and
remembering to breathe
maybe even sudden
gusts like some hand
priming the fire of your
lungs with bellows

And what it was like to
be a kid in outdoor rawness

You learn this recipe
and you put it in your book
one of many delights in your

“Recipe for Enjoying Each Other
and Oneself Outdoors with
Fruit in Park and Wind.”

~ Lady



Tuesday, January 28th, 2014


The gears I muster, the traction I make, the tending and
learningĀ and gathering and hunkering.

Arraying myself, making array from disarray. Using
disarray to hatch, mulch, compost. Gathering disarray
like humus collected from trees, normal dropping of twigs
over a season, work to do.

That which relates to nature relates to my life,
that which I do can be more in the general flow of nature–
even technical bits can be more harmonious, a good part
of nature. Like sweeping, a broom, winding garlic garlands,
canning the excess of a season to put in my keep,
my laden cupboards, my nest.

Satisfaction of opening that which I’ve cultivated, that which
I’ve gathered, the bunching I crunched to make
harvest season.

How it goes so fast; two months ago I boiled the kitchen,
steam on the windows, sticky on the floor, stayed up late
past bedtime, crunched to do what I’d done.

I remember the physicality of it, 60 days ago, 1400 hours
and now I’m turning screw threads on jars, being a bit sparing
so as to savor and dole, steam poured into winter.

So glad for the abundance our civilization’s put aside, the
abstraction of money such that specialists flourish, like
granularity of so many kinds of pollen.

How I can drive to stores any time, really, stores,
community pantries, and there’s lots set aside, more
than enough for anyone, really, and we’ll have Spring.

~ Lady


Out at the In-laws #5

Friday, November 29th, 2013

Lady’s 1st sweet potato pie

Another odd Smith story, this one of uneaten Thanksgiving dinner and losing two pounds.

This is a Frankenpome, partly poetry, part-time reportage — an awkward lumbering beast.

It’s poem 61 in 61 days. Lady and I were part of the Crisis Chronicles Press poem-a-day-October project, and I found the process enjoyable enough to keep going through November. Hope to continue to first week of January, but no guarantee cuz guarantees without warranties are burdens and I’ve enough of those thanks to church and state.

Out at the In-laws 5

I’m so wanting to try
wife’s first sweet potato pie
as with a Taurus behind and a Honda ahead
over the slivers and through the shoulds
to Ma-in-law’s house we go,
mountain man music bluegrassing radio
motivating over the hill.

We walk winter wonder
deer tracking tunnels
around pond bound brush,
sedimental journey
shooting b&w pictures
in digital dusk divide.

Though veggie vegan,
I carveThanksgiven turkey
popping meat in my mouth
which unused to the thickness
sticks in my throat

and stays.

As they all are eating round table talking,
I’m gulping water attempting to vomit
over and over till sore,
small upward movement
no downward going
my dinner done done unbegun
me only wanting me to be nibbling
wife’s sweet potato pie
whose square shape brings pondering
does pie require rounding,
when wife resounding replies,
“We also wondered if my square pie was pie,
but you know what they say –
pie are squared.”

Come home hours after
wondering if safer
but sticking still stucker
me my own sucker
afraid of trying again
cuz throat flesh swelling
from constant grilling
and don’t know when it can mend
be nice to know over
but untry’s no clover
so try and still knot
it is not.

Seek sleep relief
when wake wife sez
“How long did it take to go down?”

“It did not.”

New try sly,
coat throat with honey
but water hits blockage
me thinking awful
must go to the hospital
when swallow and it all goes down,
my 12-hour clump lump unbound.

Drink morning coffee
taste sweet potato pie
aye yi yi
well worth the waiting, absolute greating.

That’s my Thanksgiving ,
thnx truly given,
instead of adding pounds I lost two.

How about you?

– Smith, 11.30.2013

ThnxGiven at the in-laws, rocks by Lady – fotosmith



Tuesday, November 19th, 2013


I would like to overcome addiction
to the tape loop muttering ruminations,
the hunched over thoughts steeping stewing
brewing chattering discontent in myself

I would like to overcome
the contaminated feeling that wants
to smother itself in dopamine brownies,
cookies, hurried white and yellow ramblings
gnoshing through the cupboards

Overcome the hungry ghost
in me, happy it
in better

When I do, the moments I
do make good decisions, better, sure…
there’s a sense of loss, like I’ve
gotten on the train
without some desired
item like a security blanket
or favorite doll

It’s like that game of trust
falling backwards into friends’ hands
letting concerns go
letting the sugar starch rest uneaten
or eaten by others

I shouldn’t worry
I shouldn’t hoard

This season will provide

The seasons will continue to provide

~ Lady


Copyright (c) 2009 Smith & Lady
Designed by Lady K