...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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November’s feature was my 36th consecutive month – started December 2015, basically 9 poems and 10 fotos a month. Huge thanks to editor/publisher Kathy Kieth for this gig.
My latest book of poetry – Where Never Was Already Is, 244 poems, 29 collages, 324 pages, $15 – consists of the first 27 months of Medusa.
I have a 45 minute reading followed by Q&A coming up on February 19 at the Art on Madison gallery. There is no open mic, just me… although I’ll give 10 minutes to Lady to read our collaborations. Here’s the blurb.
Steven B. Smith published Artcrimes (1986-2006) featuring 517 poets/artists, including Bukowski and Harvey Pekar; per the Plain Dealer: “with the publication of 21 issues of ArtCrimes, Smith has made a vital and indelible mark on this city’s history.” In 2012, his memoir “Stations of the Lost & Found, a True Tale of Armed Robbery, Stolen Cars, Outsider Art, Mutant Poetry, Underground Publishing, Robbing the Cradle, and Leaving the Country” was published by The City. In 2018, Crisis Chronicles Press put out “Where Never Was Already Is” – 244 poems 29 collages over 54 years. He and his wife, Lady K, spent 2006-2009 living in 10 countries on 3 continents recharging their word wells. He’s run from the cops 10 times, got away 9.
Art on Madison, ?14203 Madison Avenue, Lakewood, Ohio, 7pm, February 19, 2019.
My 37th feature will be this Friday… I get the 3rd Friday each month. It’s reassuring to have a monthly outlet.
My recent book “Where Never Was Already Is” consists of all the poems that appeared in my first 27 months on Medusa’s Kitchen… 324 pages, 244 poems, 29 illustrations, perfect bound, $15, 6″ x 9″ — http://ccpress.blogspot.com/2018/04/098Smith.html
Someone asked for my black bean soup recipe. This is a first for me.
Smith’s random black bean soup
3 segments of garlic
1 very large onion or 3 smaller ones
3 carrots
4 stalks celery
chop the above, add to large pan with 1/3 cup olive oil
and saute
add tablespoon ground cumin, black pepper, some smoked salt
add large can diced tomatoes. 3 cans of black beans with juice
3 caps sherry, 1/3 cup miso, 1/2 cup black beluga lentils,
1 container vegetable broth, msg if desired
bring to low boil
lower flame and simmer for 1 hour
take 1/4 of it and put thru a blender
add back in
add chopped green onions, chopped cilantro, chopped parsley,
and some frozen corn
bring to low boil, lower flame to simmer
and slow cook for an hour
“Where you come from is gone.
Where you thought you were going to weren’t never there.
And where you are ain’t no good unless you can get away from it.”
You want strange? Comedy? Absurd? The Church of Christ Without Christ?
Then you need “Wise Blood,” from 1979, the movie John Huston made from Flannery O’Connor’s first novel (1952). With Brad Dourif and Harry Dean Stanton.
I saw the movie at the Cedar Lee when it came out 39 years ago and was wondering if it could possibly be as good as I remembered. Finally found it again (on Filmstruck). It is. 5 stars out of 4.
~
Another Filmstruck film – His Kind of Woman, 1951, Robert Mitchum, Jane Russell, Vincent Price, directed by Richard Fleischer (although uncredited, he redid the film after John Farrow’s failure) – a film noir of piranhas in a pool fighting over whom to eat – I used to see these as entertainment, but today realized they’re education, prophesy, life as it’s actually lived — we’re all meat, just looking for a mouth.
~
Wine More Than Women
Dead poets sing tall towers
of empty icing,
of love without helping,
love without caring,
love without sacrifice,
love without being there,
of loving land more than people,
people more than person,
strangers more than family,
of women who wait without complaint
while men fight wars,
drink wine,
cry.
This is not poetry,
this is not love.
This is masturbation,
this is licking one’s self in the mirror.
Love is changing diapers,
love is getting up before dawn and going to work,
love is not eating the last piece of pie,
love is looking, watching, sharing,
caring.
Love is not thumping chest,
love is not beating brow,
love is not patriarchy,
love is not lies.
Their poet love is empty love,
self love,
love of sound and whistle
minus meaning.
titles of the 27 reading rooms
each room has its own collage
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1: Men as Birds and Women as Water
2: Broken Crumbs in the Snow
3: The Melancholy of the Cycle Calling
4: Weren’t for Monk, I’d Catch Coltrane
5: Yesterday’s Gone, Tomorrow Ain’t Here
6: The Homework Ate My Dog
7: Red Wheelbarrow, Dusky Attic, Dancing in the Dark
8: No Wrapped Supply of Fly
9: We Who Rise in Heat from Dream
10: With Drum and Tune of Bone Prevail
11: That Little Snake
12: Eating Dirt While Dreaming Sky
13: Light… Dark… Light… Dark…
14: Unbowed Before the Bacon
15: Shadow in Search of Sun
16: Womb Warm Wonder
17: for Lady K., wife, collaborator, partner, friend
18: Sometimes Sleep Slides Us
19: No Heart to Pierce with Truth
20: East of the Sun, West of the Moon
21: Ghost Dance of None Against my Skin
22: The Lying Moon Whispers Untruths
23: Light Like Liquid Zen
24: Do Again the Done Before
25: Surplus Meat in Land of Sharpened Teeth
26: Just Cuz It Is Don’t Mean It is
27: Meet Me in the Meat Lane
My first appearance in Medusa’s Kitchen was after meeting D.R. Wagner at the annual Beat Celebration poetry reading at the Barking Spider in September 2015 hosted by Dianne Borsenik. He liked my opening found Ferlinghetti poem so he included it at the end of one of his weekly Saturday features the next month, and I used that introduction to slip in the door monthly.
Lovely Lady
deep sweet life
sunny shady
streaked with strife
most the gravy
comes from wife
Gimme an extra helping please
of savory Lady
with spice in stride
– Smith, 12.24.2015
Happy bornday Lady K. May the new year see your business bloom.
Lady made Christmas gingerbread cookies using honey from our hive. Don’t care for ginger, but these are tasty. Think the honey softens the savageness. We decorated them oddly. I did the misshapened one.
Kathy Kieth of Medusa’s Kitchen posted 9 poems, 10 fotos, and 1 song of mine online. She posts different poets every day, with some repeating regularly, like D.R. Wagner whom I met at BeatStreet Cleveland 2015 and who slipped me into the Kitchen by including my Ferlinghetti poem with some of his. This is a good selection of old and new poems >>> http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2015/12/just-different-crazy.html
Some silly scoff officers
place Descartes before the horse
discourse quarter whore sports
without tracts of time
just prime data dumps for pre-penis pumps
outside the roses in reels of remorse
with the more moral morsels outsourced of course
for being ain’t spam in philosopher jam
which doesn’t disprove
or even remove
the I ache therefore I am am.
Dog week later in mourning kitchen pouring
Coffee into my veins with a dull cup
A daze of morals and Moses
Whines and Rosicrucians
It’s raining cats and gods
And I am a fine unman
– Smith, 1974
My first book of poetry that Lady published in 2008 was titled after this poem.
Zen Over Zero, Steven B. Smith, Selected Poems 1964 – 2008
69 poems & 22 collages spanning 44 years, $12 + shipping, 6″ x 9″, 84 pages
“Smith, in poetry’s whorehouse of many rooms, you belong in the philosophical-scientific wing with us.” – Jim Lang
“Let’s face it Smith, if the song ‘My Way’ were written about your life, it would be lyrics by William S. Burroughs & music by Laurie Anderson, as performed by The Velvet Underground. The 45-RPM vinyl would have been a blue corrosion color rather than black, with Voodoo Lounge as the cover and ‘Voodoo Child’ as side B. And THAT my friend would be one highly collectible single.” – Steve Reynolds
Here’s the first poem in the book, so you’ve only 67 poems and 21 collages to go.
Grasshopper’s Tale
My life’s dog food for do gooders
Hot dodgers dogging God’s zone
Fur sure of itself
Per path and position
Point portion pursued
We who rise in heat from dream
Lick recollection loose
From cold fire’s template
Futility’s fog
We bleed in abandon
Dance dawn’s dapple light
I got a poem published I didn’t write and never submitted . . . man, this poet gig’s a lot easier than I thought.
I left a FaceBook status Monday . . . three days later I receive the new Green Panda Press anthology in the mail and there’s my FaceBook comment reformatted as a poem.
Descartes Race
I don’t know if I exist or not .
. . perhaps I am but a weed
dream from some godz pipe.
But whatever I am or ain’t,
still gotta pay the bloody
rent and plod on from sun
thru moon.
front of new NightBallet Press 40-poem chapbook
foto by poet Dianne Borsenik
Here you go, *Hip Cat Femur Whack Give a Doc a Bone* — a 48-page, 40-poem, $5 Smith chapbook published 1.13.13 by NightBallet Press . . . Dianne Borsenik publisher, editor, layout artist & front cover photographer.
A mere 12.5 cents per poem, 10.41 per page . . . real kulchur one can afford, and we ain’t talking yogurt.
48 years of my life with one poem 1965, rest eight year past.
It’s a delight to me because I forgot many of these since I wrote them one night and polished and blogged them next morning, not often re-reading because they were minor notes. Through Dianne’s eyes, they are less minor than I thought.
