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 ‘weather’ Category


Tuesday, March 12th, 2013

One might find rocks in a stream or by the lake, pick them up, turn them over, stack meditatively. One might find thoughts, pick them up, examine, stack them meditatively.

Some of these thought rocks hold uncomfortable ideas. I’d like to see the thoughts when they are there, acknowledge them, transform them. The thoughts have feelings attached. Physical feelings. I think about soothing the physical feelings, think what I’d like to feel instead, and let myself feel that without condemning myself for having uncomfortable thoughts in the first place. I am soothed.

How thankful so many of my thought rocks are gentle. How thankful so many of my thought rocks are ambitious in a good way. How thankful I am I have goals, how thankful I appreciate the goals met, the fun of steps taken in the process of attaining the goals. People call steps milestones; maybe there is something inherently associative with thoughts and rocks.

A guy sent a rock of healing intention over to his friend in Asia. He’d carried that rock in his pocket like a meditation bell, like a singing bowl. Every time he emptied his pocket for the night the rock came out with his keys onto the top of his dresser. Every morning when he put his pants back on, into his pocket the rock went with his keys. Every time he stuck his hand in there, he felt that rock.

The rock was with his keys. What is it about “keystone?”

We’re letting rock remain underground, unbroken, cool. Hot sometimes. How there’s so much loose rock already up in the streams that we can pick up, examine, put in our pockets, put back. About the majesty of mountains, unbroken. About the God of mountains, the gods of the mountains. I call on them to protect themselves. OM.

There’s sand under the boreal forests in Canada, sand everywhere. Sand comes from rock. I’d like that sand to just stand under the stands of trees. I don’t want the stands to be turned over. I call on the stands and the sand to protect itself. I call on the indigenous gods of the sand and the stands to protect themselves. I call on the gods to remember they are infused in our hands. They can keep our hands off the sands, keep keystone keystone without running a pipe through it, without scraping our rakes over it into rubble and cancer.

Without, without, oh, how easy to be *without* pain, without all the scraping and disease.

Without. How easy to be Without so many problems.

Oh, how easy to keep our lungs. How easy to blow our breath into the easy gerbil thrill of wind turbines, those easy tumbling breezes, those easy galloping breezes, those good winds. Those streams through something consonant.

I’m going to put a rock in my pocket, and the thick rock will lie calmly underground. It will be there relatively forever into the future. Sand will be there under stands, relatively forever into the future.

~ Lady



Monday, January 21st, 2013




Goddess on Gaia

Monday, October 29th, 2012

I have this theory that Hurricane Sandy is a manifestation of Goddess on Gaia. Gaia is upset because people in power haven’t been heeding her warnings enough. First she sent an earthquake to Christ Church, New Zealand. She chose Christ Church not because She has particularly ill feelings towards the people who live there, Christ, and church, but because maybe She was thinking, “OK, how do I make it obvious to people that I’m pissed off and want them to stop polluting so much, degrading the environment so much, eating animals so much? I’ll go for something to get their attention. Christ Church.”

Well, that didn’t work. Most people were somehow oblivious. So maybe Gaia got even more pissed off, and conveniently found a city named “Fukushima,” which reminded her of the phrase “Fuck you.” Not that She was angry specifically at the people of Japan or the people of Fukushima (except for proponents of nuclear power, perhaps). It was just a way to say, “Look here, I’m communicating with you. You didn’t get ‘Christ Church’ and wrote that off to coincidence. But Christ Church followed by ‘Fuku’ shima? That I don’t think you’ll write off.”

And maybe She’s not even angry, but just concerned about people and animals and has decided to appear angry to get our attention, but now we’ve got a megastorm right before election day, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence. This is the planet saying, “See, here I am, and I have this stuff I could do that might make things a *tad* uncomfortable to you. So please heed. Do not break into my skin and fracture my rock. Do not blow the tops off my mountains. Do not kill so many of my creatures. Do not irradiate the environment. Do not drill for gas and oil so much.”

Here’s what She commands our elected people to do: help wild creatures thrive in the wild again. Tap into gentle energy from wind and solar and wave and maybe even geothermal. Develop smart energy grids. Help us stop having so many human babies–let’s value the present and future for all children. Eat more organically farmed, non-monoculture-crop non-GMO food. Live more according to the environment’s needs.

Elected people and wealthy people have reason to heed this. It is worthwhile to have as much environment as possible left unspoilt, given over to wild animals. The pleasures of this life are found by eating healthy food, seeing that people are happy and seeing the beauty of nature and making worthwhile accomplishments in art, poetry, literature, film, engineering, teaching, etc., and all according to best practices… and surely wealthy and elected people are interested in the pleasures of this life.

~ Lady


More About Ice

Wednesday, October 3rd, 2012

We walk thin ice in the fall or spring when there are puddles and the cold makes thin ice and we crunch down on it and enjoy that. There’s thin ice here those times.

There’s thick ice here during the winter. Sometimes it’s so thick the whole lake freezes over, and we like that, and we expect it, and we welcome it every year. It’s a great big lake. The lake’s name is Lake Erie. And we love the big, thick ice. We love how it buckles up and chunks. We love how some things die in that thick ice because they should die, like some of the bacteria. “It’s good for that bacteria to die over the winter,” Smith says. “It shouldn’t grow so much.”

We like how some things are made healthier because of that thick ice. We like taking pictures of that thick ice. We like pretending we are on a polar planet when we visit that thick ice.

That thick ice didn’t happen last year but it will happen this year. It will happen for many years in the future, again and again. We are going to protect this planet, which means learning to love that thick ice.

I don’t like ice in my water inside my temperature-controlled home or a restaurant. I don’t understood why people put ice in the water when it’s cold outside. Or put on the air conditioning when it’s less than 85 degrees outside.

Save for the few days when it reaches the 90s in the height of summer. I do like my rum on the rocks any time though or whatever it is I’m trying like that. Maybe ouzo. Ouzo matches with ice. I like that. I don’t like the hidden ice on the roads or the bridges. I don’t like the radioactive brine sprayed on our roads from oil and gas well waste.

We’re talking about what it is we want now in our poetic expression, and what it is we don’t want. We are not glamorizing distress anymore. We are interlacing what it is we want and we are protecting the ice through thick and through thin.

I love Smith through thick and through thin. Sometimes we’re skating on thin ice and it’s hard. Sometimes we’re skating on thin ice and we’re loose and we grab each other swing each other around and it’s not hard. Sometimes something melts in me and it’s easy and good. Sometimes it’s hot and hard, that ice, and pointy and gaspy. Sometimes my throat hurts. Sometimes his heart skips beats. I don’t want his heart to skip beats. I’d trade the pauses, I’d take them for him. I’m strong. I can do that. The air is strong, too, and it can do that. It can take those missing beats and he will tick and tick and tick. That ice can help insulate it, and when it’s warm–when it’s supposed to be warm–that will insulate his heart too. And if it is not what it is supposed to be then I’ll insulate it. I’ll take those missing beats.

Sometimes I lose him in dreams and then sometimes I find him. He watches movies with me. We’re watching the opening credits, we’re watching the closing credits, we’re watching all the credits. We’re finding the parking spaces, like just now, when Smith found a parking space. “That’s because we’re in the movie,” he tells me.

~ Lady


Walking on Thin Ice

Thursday, June 7th, 2012

Walking on Thin Ice is not about the world losing polar ice caps. We’re going to stop that. We’re going to thicken those ice caps right back up. We’re going to populate the glaciers again. We’re going to make sure there’s an adequate head of snow on the Himalayas and everywhere else that its needed. Cool breezes bleeded.

This blog is named after the Yoko Ono and John Lennon song. It’s the first song by Yoko Ono I ever heard, and smith introduced me to it. In my opinion, it is one of the most far out yearning and tragic songs ever made. They were finishing up the song the day Lennon died. I only learned a long time after naming the blog that such sadness had happened around the generation of the song.

When I listen to it, it brings back the giddy creativity, the yearning sated, the ecstatic discovery I experienced when I hooked up with smith. I listened to it on “The Best of Yoko Ono” album over and over, spooling my Miata around, lost and found. It was novel, yet old. Like smith.

In the months after we hooked up, I’d collapse on his rocking chair sofa and poof into smoke. He told me the rest of his stories for his memoir. I tore down his cancer. I spackled the walls. I barfed as he was irradiated. We made art. Night time was Ono and Meat Beat Manifesto. Morning was Mingus, breakfast and golden sun.

Walking on Thin Ice, in the song, is about daring do on the edge.

Walking on Thin Ice is about adventure.

Walking on Thin Ice, in smith & lady’s lives, is about walking on water.

~ Lady



Tuesday, June 5th, 2012

for smith and the Venus Transit, and after  “Unknown Nipple” by smith

It’s hard to think of anything more loving
than things meeting the rain.
Rain popping them open.
Jewelweed, humus,
worm castings.

Flowers with

that sip

that die down,
edging soil up

Bee excrement.
dust pollen.

Flowers of sorts
burble up out of rock
to meet the rain

They break down,
sediment accretes,
and rock is made


A dove watches two sparrows
on phallic bark
they make luff
luff fluff
cloaca to cloaca
beating wings
plastic-like bones
over bending, flapping feathers

That’s air creature love.


It’s hard to thing
of anythink more loving
than thinks meeting the rain…

Thinks under burden
of overthought wrought tightness
then getting rung
with the flung
of emotion
dripping down
showering down
battening the hatches down
cathartic rope


Cycles, the sky loading laden
cycles, the sky burgeoning burden

the sky bequest and budged

Sunshine on a half shell
lips of the ecstatic kit
poetry wrung from numbers
apple heirs to air
flower power
sawdust on ice

lite kite
shine open


~ Lady


Dharma Run

Wednesday, May 16th, 2012

Dharma run May 16, 2012. 3+ miles & a stop to water the peas. ~ Lady


Blue Sky Folk Festival May 19 in Kirtland, Ohio

Friday, May 11th, 2012
Blue Sky Folk Festival May 19 in Kirtland

Blue Sky Folk Festival in Kirtland on
Saturday, May 19

. . . where great musicians can connect with new musicians . . .

Blue Sky Folk Fest Great Guitar Raffle

Blue Sky Folk Festival Gift GuitarCheck out this awesome guitar that could be yours! The guitar will be signed by all of the featured performers at Blue Sky Folk Fest 2012.

It’s a full size Dreadnaught style cutaway guitar with a fantastic blue sunburst finish, professionally setup up by luthier Patrick Podpadec from Wood-n-Strings Guitar Repair Shop. Equipped with a piezo pickup system with active EQ controls, it includes a gig bag, guitar strap, guitar stand and extra set of strings. This guitar is ready to plug in and play with the tone and action like the pros have.

Raffle tickets on sale at Blue Sky May 19. $5 each or 5 tickets for $20.

Music, Music and More Music

Model wearing shirt showing Blue Sky Folk Fest designWhat a line-up: Hal Walker, Matt Watroba, Dale Rodgers, Laura Lewis Kovac and Hickory, Rebecca Wohlever, Tina Bergmann, Bryan Thomas & Hu$hMoney, Marc Yanko and more . . .

Don’t Be Caught Short-Shirted

Pre-order your 2012 Blue Sky t-shirt online and save! Pick it up at the festival May 19. These shirts will sell out!

A Search for Harmony

Last year's cookieFour “official” jam sites will be set up at the May 19 Blue Sky for musicians to practice and meet other musicians, but we know from last year that they’ll set up and play anywhere they please.

More Open Mic !

This year we’ve expanded to two stages – featured performers and open mic. The extra stage will give more open mic musicians a chance to shine – hosted by Spoon Too Soon, who will also perform their own brand of back porch roots, folk and country music.

Plan Your Day

A jam session at last year's festivalDon’t miss your favorite artist. There are workshops and classes too; view our schedule online.

Family Corner

Spend a day soaking up sun* and music – The Blue Sky is truly a family affair. Kids 12 and under come free. Crafty music and art-making, harmonica lessons, spoon lessons (what?!? you’ve never played a spoon?!?), clogging, storytelling, a playground and more . . . plus, mmmmmm, root beer floats, (n)ice cold lemonade, and fantastic fair food.

*tho this festival will be held rain or shine!

Creates wonderful memories for both adults and childrenBut I Just Want to Listen

Absolutely. Sing along, dream a little, listen a lot. No instrument required.

What? Klezmer Music?

What is the Workmen’s Circle Klezmer Orchestra doing at a folk festival? The genre originated in Eastern Europe and the particular form now known as klezmer developed in the United States Traditional clog dancingin the milieu of Yiddish-speaking Jewish immigrants who arrived between 1880 and 1924. Nope, not bluegrass, not roots music, not country – but it’s still Northeast Ohio folk music, and we thought you’d like this rousing start to the Blue Sky Folk Festival at 11 a.m.

Share and Share a-Like

Do share this newsletter with your friends – share our Facebook pages – “Like” us on Facebook. Help us bring the folk music community together in Kirtland on Saturday, May 19.

Blue Sky Folk Festival at East Shore: A Search for Harmony
Saturday, May 19, 2012    11 a.m. – 7 p.m.
East Shore Unitarian Universalist Church
10848 Chillicothe Rd. (Route 306 just south of Route 6), Kirtland, Ohio 44094


Recap on three years and my impetus for change

Wednesday, April 4th, 2012

It’s been a long time since I’ve blogged on for anything other than a poem or some event on which I’d worked on getting out the word. I’m decided to blog here now on a weekly schedule as much as I reasonably can. I used to blog on WTI every other day, particularly when we were on our most excellent foreign adventure. My life since then has not really been less adventurous; I think I’ve taken home some of the adventure with me in terms of activism and a new-found spirituality.

In the last three years since we’ve returned to the States:

  • I’ve become an activist.
  • I’ve worked on my professional skills.
  • I’ve had several intense, unfortunately incapacitating spiritual experiences.
  • I have many more less intense, yet empowering spiritual experiences.
  • I’m working on creative projects–finishing some up, starting up some new ones.

The most interesting part has been the incapacitating spiritual experiences. During these episodes I’ve not been able to work much as the experiences have been so strong with profound connectedness and bliss and yet also sometimes profound agony. One might connect some of the symptoms of this with symptoms described by the label “bipolar disorder,” but I reject this label. I know my experiences are real, not delusional. I mean, because they are relatively new to me I had a difficult time understanding what was going on at first and so there was an issue of interpretation. But I’ve got more of a grip on this now, more understanding.

The experiences have catalyzed me to become an activist. One day stands out in particular–last year, February 23, 2011. I was in the midst of one of the unfortunate, more strong experiences which had been going on for about a week. That particular day I had forced myself to go into the office to handle my work responsibilities–I feel it important to do as much as I can muster.

So I was sitting there, trying and trying to work. I’m a web developer, and so I must have fairly constant connection to the Internet in order to work. Well, whenever I’d try to go to a website to check my work, my connection wouldn’t let me do it. It would only let me go on Facebook and news sites. Also, my head would not let me handle complicated tasks–I’d lose track of where I was and could only focus on the immediate, overwhelming stimulus around me such as the sighs and creaks of the room and my iPod player and how everything synchronizes to the thoughts I have. Or perhaps my thoughts synchronize to the sensory data around me. Anyways–a bit too much Oneness that day.

So I had my iPod player running on “random shuffle,” and the songs it was selecting were more and more irritating to me–somehow ominous. My head felt like the volume of air in the room was pressing in on me, and I couldn’t get anything done for work out of confusion and being blocked when attempting to go to work-related websites.

The sensory data was overwhelming, music reaching some kind of crescendo from the iPod, pressure on my head, hurt in my heart… and then I checked Facebook and saw that someone had posted an article: the town of Christchurch, New Zealand had been struck by an earthquake the day before.

I hadn’t yet heard of this news and I figured Reality was trying to get my attention. As soon as I read the article, it was like something had been released. The pressure dropped in the room and we lost our Internet connection for the day.

I couldn’t think of a more clear signal Reality could give me to indicate, “Hey, something’s up, people of Earth. We want you to take better care of things.”

I mean, maybe it was God/Goddess doing it, maybe it was just part of God, maybe it was the planet. Because of its name, I find it particularly interesting that the planet/God/Goddess/whatever-it-is picked the town of Christchurch.

Then in March I had another intensely uncomfortable experience at the same time as the Fukushima disaster (also an interesting name). I’ve noticed that the uncomfortable experiences usually correlate to earthquakes, hurricanes, or agonizing over my expression.

So, this is where I’m at with the data as I see it: I’m working as best I can on respecting Reality more by taking care of anything it might be wanting from us such as taking better care of the planet, being kinder to each other and animals, being more spiritual and/or religious yet with less hypocrisy, etc.

So since these episodes, I’ve picked up volunteer duties with the Sierra Club and the Occupy Movement and have been working on every aspect of my life as best I can to be more attuned to Reality’s needs. And I’ve noticed that since I’ve worked on ordering my life better towards Reality’s possible needs, I’ve been much more functional at work and have not experienced confusion.

~ Lady


Sunday Morning Coming Down

Sunday, May 22nd, 2011

Smith’s telling me all kinds of stuff this morning…

I’m thinking of Sunday Morning Coming Down right now and it’s quiet, it feels like Sunday morning.

Kris Kristofferson was a Rhodes Scholar, which means you have to be pretty fricking smart. After he graduated in England, he came back to the U.S. and with all this college education and everything, he chose to get a job at Johnny Cash’s recording studio as a janitor because he figured he’d get a chance to slip Johnny Cash a copy of his songs he’d written.

And one of the the songs he slipped to Johnny Cash was Sunday Morning Coming Down which is one of the saddest, most heart-evocative songs I know.

Johnny Cash was gonna sing the song on his show. His TV people came to him and said, “We don’t want you to say this line On the Sunday Morning sidewalk wishing Lord that I was stoned/ cuz there’s something in a Sunday makes a body feel alone.” We don’t want you to use the word stoned on TV.”

And Johnny Cash turned to Kris Kristofferson and said, “How do you feel about this? You wrote the song. What do you want me to do?”

Kristofferson said, “It’s your TV show. I would totally understand if you don’t want to use the word stoned.”

Everybody left it at that. And Johnny Cash went out there and sang it the way it was written.

I can’t believe Smith has all this shit in his brain, but I sure do enjoy it.

Sunday Morning Coming Down by Kris Kristofferson

Well I woke up Sunday morning,
With no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes,
And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
An’ I shaved my face and combed my hair,
An’ stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.

I’d smoked my brain the night before,
On cigarettes and songs I’d been pickin’.
But I lit my first and watched a small kid,
Cussin’ at a can that he was kicking.
Then I crossed the empty street,
‘n caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin’ chicken.
And it took me back to somethin’,
That I’d lost somehow, somewhere along the way.

On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
‘Cos there’s something in a Sunday,
Makes a body feel alone.
And there’s nothin’ short of dyin’,
Half as lonesome as the sound,
On the sleepin’ city sidewalks:
Sunday mornin’ comin’ down.

In the park I saw a daddy,
With a laughin’ little girl who he was swingin’.
And I stopped beside a Sunday school,
And listened to the song they were singin’.
Then I headed back for home,
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin’.
And it echoed through the canyons,
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.

On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
‘Cos there’s something in a Sunday,
Makes a body feel alone.
And there’s nothin’ short of dyin’,
Half as lonesome as the sound,
On the sleepin’ city sidewalks:
Sunday mornin’ comin’ down.

Do do do do do do do do,
Do do do do do do do,
Do do do do do do do do,
Do do do do do do do.

To fade…


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