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Our relationship was forged to the soundtrack of Yoko Ono's magic,
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Archive for the ‘Smokey Grey’ Category

Poetry Month Poems – Lady’s #23

Thursday, April 23rd, 2015


Curlicues of boogie woogie mugwort dreams
eddies from the white buffalo pipe pooling
into wintergreen calm of yellow birchbark,
living breath of the Great Grandfather
Mystery, the present of the Wild White
Buffalo Woman

The pipe circles around hand offering to hand
for the songs of the four directions, White North,
Morning Star East, South Wind, Sunset West

Keen beauty of traditions indigenous to this land–
can we find them again?

Get away from our empty ghosts
of oblivious disregard

Some thoughts
I believe

~ Lady



Smith & Lady – March 2, 2015

Monday, March 2nd, 2015


Give us this day our comfortable grooves
the daily bread of paddings if packaged like
patting Eau de your smoke, my iron, our scent
in the nest, a valorization of fairy dust from
corner distillations

Let’s make a gingham picnic by moonlight
in Lincoln Park, the packing of a basket, the cologne
of our legs made musky with bike, unfolding berries,
Indian dal, cheese and bread on the cool metal
of a public bench on a warm summer night –
may we, mais oui

~ Lady




Monday, January 21st, 2013




Smokey Grey, Private Lie

Saturday, October 15th, 2011

Smokey Grey, Private Eye – foto by Smith

Here’s the first Smokey Grey Private Eye short story. I’d forgotten how odd and silly it was. Stay tuned for Smokey 2 and the Pod People (my favorite of my 3 . . . Lady also wrote 3).

~ ~ ~

Smokey Grey, Private Lie

Grey looks out at the cloudy unfocused day. He has vagina juice on his glasses, but he’s not sure if the smear is inner or outer fog or last night’s lady. It wipes off, so it must be lady. The day’s still gray.

Smokey lives alone in a dark room illuminated by two strips of red and green neon and the lonely glow of a computer screen somewhere deep in the dead steel city. He is rumpled, weary. He used to have friends, but drove them away. Used to have dreams, but they died – dreams of external fairness, internal peace. He no longer expects peace in this life, or even reason.

He does have one friend left, an alien he recently met at a bar, even though he no longer drinks. The alien has an expandable head which accordions out to give thought more room, but he does this only at night so no one sees. He’s not sure he believes.

Smokey knows no one tells the truth – only a truth, their truth, and even so they always lie. He also knows that flesh fails, always, but can be fun until it does.

He is lazy, stubborn, persistent, odd, old, his voice gravelly from forty years of smoking grass. He’s never solved a case. He’d unsolved some though: proved an honest man wasn’t; showed an untrue woman true; found a dead tree lived.

His office on a vague, nondescript road in a nowhere building with no desk, no secretary, no case load, no debt job to jab, just piles of old files unsolved and unsolvable, was being detoxed, so he sits on a bent bench in a neglected park and lights his last joint, taking his first slow toke of the day while watching the squirrels play with a dog, the dog play to a man, the man playing in shadow like dead smoke.

Something in the interplay of the dog and man reminded him of the Lost Whisper Tribe, the way they kept things unformed, never vocalized wire to strand, mean to maim, or lean to lame. And that reminded him he needed more grass.

The stuff he was smoking now was three-time-running grass. Yesterday, grassless at his kitchenless table, he’d said “Marijuana Marijuana Marijuana” three times quickly, evenly, then rapped once on the wood table with his knuckles and said “There, I’ve manifested it. It will come.” He’d looked about in mock seriousness and whispered, “Well, where is it?” Smokey talked to himself a lot; answered himself too.

Today while walking to the park, someone shouted “Grey!” When he stopped and turned, a dude he’s met at last night’s Urban-Jellen Test concert stepped out of an internet door, so Smokey asked, “Any chance of finding some smoke?” The guy reached into his pocket and said, “Here, somebody just gave me this. It must have been for you,” and handed him a small gold-green bud.

Three-times-running was an old metamorph breath trick he’d learned researching the Lost Whisper Tribe legends. If you whisper softly same phrase right way same way same rhythm same roll three times spaced slightly, three heart beats later the words will form themselves in the air and you could hear them softly speak themselves. The same logic worked with reality – project three quiet visions out into the Universe and watch them unfold. Anything can happen if you’re Jung at heart . . . especially if you’re too Jung to be a Freud.

Trouble is, you couldn’t do it twice, or even count on it working the first time because reality gets prickly when taken advantage of, and starts playing tricks, unnice ones. He’d learned that from Sham, his alien friend who claimed he used to be a reality adjuster, had sold unreal estate, but he’d given it up to come to earth to play right cheek in an acoustic buttocks band.

Sham was the only one besides himself he could talk to anymore.

The dog came up and sat at Smokey’s feet, sniffing his smoke. “Ganja,” the shadow man called, “Come here, girl.” The dog stayed, staring at Grey while Grey watched the shadow man, intrigued. He got up and walked over. The dog followed.

“Ganja her name?” Smokey asked. Shadow nodded and said, “I was wondering if you could help me with something.” Smokey nodded back, trying to get the man in focus, but the shadows kept moving. “Depends. What you need?”

“I went to see the Quantum Mechanix production of Chopin last night, expecting a piano recital. But all that happened was a man came out on the stage with a large pie pan and showed it to the audience. Then an amorphous individual came out with a negative review of the previous night’s performance and waved it at the audience. A third person came out dressed in a tuxedo and went to the piano to play, but was prevented by a woman with an ax, which she then used to chop the piano into small bits. Never did hear any Chopin piano music.”

“What’d you think of it?”

“Different, sort of interesting actually. And the sound the piano wires made while being destroyed were rather special. Reminded me of an old John Cage performance. What did they mean?”

“Well, the Quantum Mechanix is a comedy group; they deal in the surreal, dada, science. They were playing with Quantum Physics and the Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle which states reality is all states, all things at once – it doesn’t become any one thing until you ask it something, and then it collapses into the answer you expect. Like Schrödinger’s Cat experiment: put a cat in a closed box with a bottle of poison gas and a radioactive isotope. If the isotope decays and an electron hits the bottle, it will break, releasing the poison, and the cat dies. But the isotope may or may not decay, so until you actually ‘ask’ the question ‘is the cat dead or alive’ by opening the box and looking, the cat is both dead and alive and every state in between. It’s your asking reality to give you an answer that reduces the cat to the single state of dead or alive.

“The Quantum Mechanix were playing with Chopin’s name, showing it to you in all of its states. The word Chopin looks like choppin’ but sounds like show-pan. The first man was ‘showing you a pan’ – and since it was a pie pan, there were overtones of showing a pie at a fair, and of course harmonics of the mathematical pi as well. The next person produced a pan – a negative review – of the previous show, so it went from ‘show pan’ to ‘show the show pan’ or ‘show pan of show.’ The potential piano player was stopped from playing by the chopping of the ax, so his ‘would’ of playing was chopped short. And of course the lady chopped the wooden piano, so you have her ‘choppin would’ as well as ‘choppin wood.’ It’s all absurd, surreal nonsense.”

Shadow stood, silent, looking at Smokey, then said, “Rather a long way to go for a short distance.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Smokey replied, “it is rather interesting. Take Quarks for example… Quarks create all the building blocks of the universe – protons, neutrons, electrons, voltrons. But, when they’re not creating stuff to build us, they disappear, go away, cease to exist in this universe. When they’re required to make more stuff, they come back. So where do they go when they’re gone? How do they know when to come back from wherever they aren’t? Fascinating stuff.”

“Where do you think they go?”

“Decatur, Illinois.”


“Why not? They’re caterers of a sort. Must make noise. Have to be somewhere when they’re nowhere, and Illinois is as close to nowhere as I know.”

They watched Ganja take a crap.

Shadow said, “You should check that out. I know you’re almost out, and that’s good shit.” Then the sun came out, banishing the shadows, and he vanished.

— © Steven B. Smith
written in Krakow Poland 2006
rewritten Cleveland Ohio 2011

Smokey’s world – foto by Smith


Weather and News Report for the Citizens of the World 9/11/2010

Saturday, September 11th, 2010

Dear Citizens of the World:

I am hoping that September 11th is remembered as a somber date for this country and the rest of the world–that we come to recognize the genocide that we perpetrated in Iraq (over a million Iraqis dead), and that we make reparations. I do not know enough about what people may or may not be doing in Afghanistan, but I am hoping that we pull out of Afghanistan unless we can sufficiently change our philosophy to actually help all Afghan people.

Interesting info about bees and wasps: – turns out that not only bees benefit us, but wasps as well. I really like the name greensmith as I am now a smith, and I used to be a green.

Grunt work:

Checking the collective psyche…

Collective psyche seems A-OK as far as facebook goes.

Checking mainstream media…

9/11: Mainstream media is expressing grief over the disappearance of the World Trade Center. I hope the Mainstream media can start publishing statistics of the number of people killed by the US due to our outrage. I find these statistics disturbing and sad. (1 million Iraqis or more, from what I understand. I am hoping for fewer casualties from Afghanistan, and I’m hoping we can actually make reparations directed by the governments of those countries.) We allowed the looting of one of the cradles of civilization.

Checking marginal media on the left…

Alternet seems to have an appropriately conscientious examination of the situation, but I’m hoping for less fear and vitriol.

Speaking of fear and vitriol, I have difficulty reading lest it seem like commonnightmares. But I’ll check…

Interesting. I bet if some of the people who read common dreams start reading Fox News, they could resolve some of the vitriol and start coming together. Weird when left meets right.

Checking mainstream media on the right…

Very interesting. Foxnews seems to be picking up on the same stories picks up on.

I’m hoping though, that we can let the mexicans into this country without restriction, as it is my understanding that mestizos are bona-fide native americans, who are supposed to be allowed to cross borders without restraint.

Checking the elite media (New York Times)…

Apparently, there was a muslim prayer room at the World Trade Center:

I like the headline of this article: “Business Class Rises in Ashes of Caste System” –

German Identity is reasserting itself. I’m glad about this–I’m hoping for a candid self-examination by the youth who did not experience the conditions of WWI & II. I understand that seemingly homogenous populations have more of a seeming rootedness and xenophobia than what we experience in the US–I am hoping the US can become an example of excellence, integration and conscientiousness again. I know this is possible.

Checking the weather…

World weather report as far as hurricanes/cyclones/etc. seems AOK today although I really wish I could see the west coast of Africa and South America.

Severe weather warning in Greece. Hope it is much needed rain, but if not, that it peters out and goes away.

Adembe and love and respect,




Wednesday, September 8th, 2010

Ponytails were killing us. My most excellent friend & I are solving the problems of the universe. The most excellent show maybe ever–“Red Dwarf…”

On Friday, the Red Dwarf ran into the Squid of Despair, a giant squid. The cast and crew discovered that everything is a giant, mass hallucination, that we’ve all been playing parts for four years in a GIANT VIRTUAL VIDEO GAME.

SO, now they find out who they REALLY are–and THAT’s the DESPAIR–the despair was that they found out who they really were…

AND, right when they were about to KILL themselves, all cast members lined up, four in a row with one bullet–the ship’s computer finally got to a high enough FREQUENCY where they could HEAR and save them.



Friends, we suggest that we buy each other’s organically grown sustainable smoothie very expensive cakes and artisanal food, get frequent behive hairdos, sans hair dye, at the beauty salons where the hairdressers are paid magnificently and enjoy their work. Exercise classes and spas. Sustainable capitalism–it’s a plan.

– –

I suggest free education for everyone, or paid education, whatever works. And a career of anyone’s choice. Some people have to go to school longer for their careers. Those people should be paid a wee bit more. OK, incentive. But not ridiculous incentive. I’m thinking: sliding scale speeding tickets, like the ones they have in Sweden. Getting rid of tax loopholes and offshore accounts. Staying local. Stopping all this weird international shipping except for cruise ships to one anothers continents. In the basements of the cruise ships, we could carry very expensive, fine cheese and the spices and coffee of the world. Gigantic, energy efficient cruise ships. Free energy? What was that thing Tesla was talking about? Hope it works. I would like to beam myself to the North and South pole if possible, and Japan. Coffee crops as well. I really like coffee from fair wage growers whose wages must grow more excellent.

Keeping the inheritance ‘stuff’ within reason, but making sure these rich people work doing art/music/artisanal food or whatever tickles their fancy and stimulates the economy in a sustainable way.

– –

Primed the pump last night and bought some local, organic food. Sharpened our old knives for only $12. Hope he charges more next time. Hope the family business has more business coming in–we are an overtly ethical business. Hope our book projects take off. I know all this will happen. I just, know… it.




Saturday, September 4th, 2010

Precedent kathy’s economic stimulus package – a prescription for today & possibly the future (albeit with tweaking and optimization):

1. If you happen to be near a flower shop, I hear the bees are expecting food next year and so buy a flower, think of a bee, and if you are wealthy, buy flowers for your entire house. I hear they are going to flower forever and ever.

2. I hear the bees have been heard of as ‘unhealthy’ in an outdated narrative, but I’ve recently heard an update on this information: there are some 15 or so new species of bees. I hope they are very good, sturdy, happy little pollinators and that they somehow magically know how to find their ways back to the hives. I anticipate that we shall eat fruit, good fruit, from now until the foreseeable future. I COMMAND IT SO. And the fruit will be wildly and widely available for maws of mass consumption, and will be very healthy and beneficial for the maws of mass consumption.

So, I command you to start eating 5 servings of fruits and vegetables a day (if you have the money for it and if it is available in your region. I hear most regions do have enough food. I would like to assume so. If not, I COMMAND IT SO.)

Of the grocery stores, et cetera: I really don’t understand how a couple of red peppers can really equal the life of a chicken. How can this situation be changed so that healthy food is subsidized? GOVERNMENT: I COMMAND YOU TO START SUBSIDIZING HEALTHY FOOD FOR PEOPLE.

3. Cellphones used to have a ‘bad’ reputation. I hear that they are now in collaboration with our needs, and nature’s needs. Thank you, cellphones! We love you!

4. I hear more and more Republicans are finding that they really were right, after all, that they are decent human beings who put their mouths where their money is in terms of helping the poor with churches, in stimulating the economy ethically so that people can buy more locally-made, hand-made goods – this is my vision for the near future. This is my economic stimulus plan.

5. The rich people will dine on the most succulent, juicy, well-marbled grass-fed beef, served to them by wonderfully paid and happy craftspeople who work with food.

6. McDonald’s and its ilk will start serving healthy, inexpensive, wonderfully-tasting food, and will pay its workers very well, a living wage that will meet and exceed its collaborators expectations, 32 hours per week with full benefits and pension plans in reparation for the history of the business’s exploitation of its workers and environment. In turn, the workers will become very faithful advocates of McDonald’s (and its ilk). And their high wages and high health will help stimulate the local economies.

So, on some days, a person of moderate wealth might find that he/she would like to eat at McDonald’s or its ilk, and other days, at an expensive smoothie bar or expensive restaurant or vegetarian restaurant (I hear they are becoming quite popular.)

7. Artists: Did you know that anyone can become an artist? Sure, some of us are misunderstood, but–get this–in a civilized society with lots of cash flow, the rich people buy lots of art. They buy personalized items for lots of money, and so do we. We are rich people! Did you know that? All of us are rich.

We might not have the actual cash money in our bank accounts right this second–but I hear it’s coming! Has to do with that hand-crafted, ethically-produced stimulation thing. Yowzers.

8. Poets: Why are you giving away God’s words for free? You are so good. Buy each others books. I command thee. I command more people to start appreciating poetry–people who might not necessarily write poetry, but suddenly find that, wow, what a goldmine of nuance and love and reverence for life there is in those darned poets! BORDERS BOOK STORE: I command you to buy books from local poets in consultation with the people who know best–like Suzanne from Macs.

INDEPENDENT BOOK STORES: You are lovers of hand-crafted zines, recycled and reowned books, fine coffee environments, tee, pastries, plants, atmosphere, music, fine wine, et cetera. IN MY ECONOMIC STIMULUS PLAN FOR YOU, YOU WILL NOT HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT LOSING BUSINESS, ONLY GAINING IT!

9. Back to the bees. I hear monoculture crops weren’t such a good idea. I’m glad they’re realizing now that they need to employ beekeepers for the local areas, and that most of the year (maybe?) the bees need to eat organic, varied, wonderful, varieties of food. Perhaps a patch of this food with a local beekeeper could be employed in every area that needs one? And that the use of pesticides is suddenly found to not be necessary, or that somehow, it is in coordination with the health needs of pollinating insects? Seems like local beekeepers would be a good jobs program to me.
– – –
I imagine that this plan will require some tweaking, but it sounds like a good start and good vision to me. What do you all think?


Maybe Heaven is Supposed to be this Planet

Wednesday, July 7th, 2010

Maybe Heaven is supposed to be this Planet. This is the butterfly that’s going to carry me home, and this is the trash I’m going to pick up later, I hope.


Old MacDonald had a farm

Sunday, July 4th, 2010

Risk is part of farmin/run with it weirdness. “I’m going to go for the trash I see on the Horizon and then hopfully I’ll be able to run.”


Calling All Egos of the Universe

Tuesday, June 29th, 2010

Auguring the Divine


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