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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 )

additions 266-291

July 26th, 2022

latest addition to my shuffle pool

266 – Requiem for the Enslaved VIII – Hub New Music
267 – Back On The Train – Phish
268 – Queen of the Bees – Jack White
269 – Falling Apart (Right Now) – Wilco
270 – Nibbadip – Fantastic Negrito
271 – Cobra Wages Shuffle – Matmos
272 – Sarinbuana – Akusmi
273 – Obvious – Lizzy Young
274 – The Lord Giveth Away – Bruce Dalzell
275 – Be Bop Kid – Suicide
276 – Fame – David Bowie
277 – Fight – Mavis Staples
278 – Shaolin Mantis – Marina Herlop
279 – All The Money or The Simple Life – The Dandy Warhols
280 – Bang Bang – David Bowie
281 – Feelin’ Alright – Dave Mason & The Quarantines
281 – Princess Slit and the Raincoat Prince – Tianna Esperanza
283 – Tension – The Jim Carroll Band
284 – Man Smart (Woman Smarter) – Harry Belafonte
285 – Elephant Walk – Mickey Hart
286 – Auctioneers – Mickey Hart
287 – Caravan At Dawn – Paul Winter Consort w/ Mickey Hart
288 – My Starter Won’t Start This Morning – Lightnin’ Slim
289 – Lazarus – David Bowie
290 – Stoned Faces Don’t Lie – Sir Douglas Quintet
291 – Heroin (May 1965 demo) – Lou Reed


Lady’s dream spirits

July 10th, 2022

Lady’s drawing and explanation of dream spirits from last night’s lucid dream:

“Dream spirits I saw last night. I asked them if they were manifestations of my mind or if they were external, but I don’t think they were able to speak, or maybe they don’t speak English, or they didn’t want to. When I confront these things lucid dreaming, they seem startled, sometimes angry, like it is unexpected that I see them. Benevolent or indifferent spirits normally, but odd-looking. Material or old bodies inhabited by spirits of either ancient humans, dolls made by humans, maybe spirits that take on anthropomorphic forms out of bone, sticks, mud, teeth, rags, hair, skin of their own volition, maybe just there.”


requiem thru shaolin

July 9th, 2022

additions to my shuffle pool

304 – Requiem for the Enslaved VIII – Hub New Music
305 – Back On The Train – Phish
306 – Queen of the Bees – Jack White
307 – Falling Apart (Right Now) – Wilco
308 – Nibbadip – Fantastic Negrito
309 – Cobra Wages Shuffle – Matmos
310 – Sarinbuana – Akusmi
311 – Obvious – Lizzy Young
312 – The Lord Giveth Away – Bruce Dalzell
313 – Be Bop Kid – Suicide
314 – Fame – David Bowie
315 – Fight – Mavis Staples
316 – See That My Grave Is Kept Clean – Mavis Staples
317 – Shaolin Mantis – Marina Herlop


low output’s better’n no output

July 6th, 2022

Another slow poem month, which is fine cuz low output’s better than no output.

2022.6.4 – Seems like life
2022.6.8 – Tried to be nice
2022.6.10 – Sitting silent
2022.6.22 – The hungry dead and dying
2022.6.24 – Holes to be filled
2022.6.28 – Conversation with Wife 55
2022.6.30 – Halfway thru 2022

~ ~ ~

Seems like life
is a moving target
and I’m the bullseye

Going through the bushes
through the bushes behind the trees
the trees beneath the leaves

Pieces of meat
in the middle of the road
welcome to the suture

Big mess upstairs
but that’s above my grade
I do crumbs below

Day’s dusk
how much damage
then to now?

~~ ~ ~

Tried to be nice
told mosquito
leave me alone I’ll leave you alone
but it bit me
so squished it with a clap
now both our bloods all over both
and nary a lesson learned

~ ~ ~

Sitting silent
in dark, rocking
beneath rainpoundroof

Millions of years
from dinosaurs to gasoline
then two centuries to extinction

I try to outwait pain
eventually most leaves
and I remain

~ ~ ~

The hungry dead and dying
not nice
but that’s life
always has
still is
time to change chime

~ ~ ~

Holes to be filled
holes to be dug
all life long

~ ~ ~

Conversation with Wife 55

“I shouldn’t have toked. I’m incapacitated.”

Isn’t that part of a circuit?
You know, incapacitors and futile-to-resistors?

“You’re strange.”

Well, most folk go to the mountains
to search for the Yeti.
I’m more into The Valley of the Yoni.

“You should write that down.”

You know, I was going to be a pop singer
but I got myself vasectomized.

“So what, you became a soda singer instead?”

~ ~ ~

Halfway thru 2022

Rolled a joint for the journey
then left it on the table
see free stone future

Rusty words
hold me together
as I work these trap lines

Spend much of my light
in the dark

The rich rule
by tongue, gun, neglect

Yet here I am driving through Ohio
taking my weed tax dollars
to Michigan

Going for the going
not the getting there

We appear to be pods
packed in lies
the rich eat like flies

Toke of whacky tobacky smoke
add caffeine
voila! brain woke

Does sadness sorrow?
does sorrow get sad?

Peaceful outside
turmoil within
what a waste

and its sacred lies
of success

In this feudal world
I feed my feral

There’s should
there’s is
there’s seldom both

I add stone
to my body river
and join flow

What does lilac?

~ ~ ~*


latest ingredients

June 24th, 2022

latest ingredients

294 – You Got To Walk That Lonesome Valley – Mississippi John Hurt
295 – Atomized – Andrew Bird
296 – Register Of Free Negroes – Fantastic Negrito
297 – Golden Brown – The Stranglers
298 – Nan Fon Bwa – Leyla McCalla
299 – Kill My Baby Tonight – L.A. Witch
300 – Tom’s Diner – Suzanne Vega
301 – Tony Speaks! – Dry Cleaning
302 – Find My Way – Paul McCartney & Beck
303 – We’re Not Happy (Till You’re Not Happy) – Willie Nelson
304 – Rich White Honky Blues – Hank Williams, Jr.
305 – Re-Make/Re-Model – Roxy Music
306 – Waitin’ For You To Blow – Bonnie Raitt
307 – Tales From The Trash Stratum – Oneohtrix Point Never & Elizabeth Fraser
308 – He She – Oneohtrix Point Never
309 – Hashish Poem – Bill Laswell
310 – Hackensack (Take 1) – Thelonious Monk


One Sparkplug Short

June 17th, 2022

*Good morning, Cleveland and the Smith clan — Smith (Steven B. Smith), Lady, dog and cat. And mighty thanks for Steven’s sharp shards of poetry and visuals: “Parts of truth tell more of truth…”* sez Kathy Kieth editor/publisher Medusa’s Kitchen

One Sparkplug Short – 9 poems, 10 fotos


May 2022 poemestry

June 1st, 2022

slim poetry pickins last month

2022.5.1 – Unknown water
2022.5.13 – Deer silent
2022.5.14 – Kin of my yeast
2022.5.14 – Help us Mr Burroughs
2022.2.17 – My Morning Dental Cleaning
2022.5.28 – The lie of night
2022.5.29 – O to be dog

~ ~ ~

Unknown water
dripping off known roof
tapping at sill

What does it want?

~ ~ ~

Deer silent
bound away

Where does sound go
when it goes away?
does the forest fall?

I watch the worm
I watch the deer
I watch the year

~ ~ ~

Kin of my yeast
crawled from the sea
made back with two beasts

Roaring pedal to the metal
rushing cross the bridge
o for more petal mental

~ ~ ~

Help us Mr Burroughs
the MAGAts are on the move
in naked launch

~ ~ ~

My Morning Dental Cleaning

“You have to fill out this information.”
I already filled it out last year.
“You have to do it every year, for the insurance people.”
I don’t have insurance.
“You have to fill it out anyway.”
No I don’t, I replied as I left.

~ ~ ~

The lie of night
lays with lie of day
begats tomorrow

In sitting sun
toking under dogwood tree
counting my nail holes

~ ~ ~

O to be dog
head out car window
fur face full sun

I’m a sparkplug short
on a cold damp day

~ ~ ~


new Lady poem this morning

May 30th, 2022

(new Lady poem this morning)

Memorial Day

We were recovering, too weak
to mow the lawn, and it rained
and it sunned, and half the lawn
was grass, and half the lawn was
clover. I trampled a path through
the clover to plant the sunflower
rootings that came in the mail,
the lavender before it was
too late, holding my tummy tuck
lest I bust my stitches

I found a garter snake
under the decaying fall leaves.
It moved like water to the
faucet coming from our
foundation stones and
slipped into a gap

Snakes do not have hands
but we do – here is the church
here is the steeple, here’s some cave
carved from an ancient river,
hand prints paint souls
like leaves on trees. Lay back
and watch the innate kindling
of the TV in the mind
passenger’s trip

We hold hands on the holiday,
the morning walk

Our dog stops at the telephone
pole at the end of the street,
looking for sweet new blades
of spring green grass

A neighborhood dog barks.
Somewhere out there
there’s agreement

On Audible we learned
birds recognize each others’ calls.
The robin hears the sparrow
the jay mimics the crow

They feel like we feel
It’s going to be OK
The mirror in the garden
says namaste

Memorial Day –
the Grand River –
sedimentary layers
clay limestone shale
dog shit on the bank

It’s fecund
it smells like rusted blood
it smells like coffee

We’ve canoed the river and
on its banks I’ve picked up rocks
to find salamanders

I carry the memory of days there
like a lotus of a transcendental sobriety

I found a morel
in our yard by the compost gate.
It came up ready, nary any pull
ripping noiselessly from the ground

It wilted as I carried it
I brought it just to show it
I turned around to put it back
I could not find out where it
came from

What can I say
but clay tests the hand
and it makes a pot

Last year I found one too,
a morel, and I expect next one
next year

This year’s bees are cleaning
out last year’s hive beyond
the grand pine you can see from
the bridge on Pearl

The tree’s how we know
where our house is. Smith wants
to paint the other side of the
picket fence white so we can see
it from Pearl

In July as you step off the deck
you can smell honey from the oven
of the hive’s hot hatchery.
They beat their wings,
keep it just right

The bees give warning bops
but rarely sting. We are in
the flight path to the field
they dance and waggle about

Last year they went up and up into
the trees, half the hive, I watched
them, a dark cloud up and over the
pine until they looked like
gnats in the robin’s egg sky

I watched until the view

This year
regardless of their tolerance
we will check every frame
until we get to the bottom of it
and wipe out the extra queen cups

We keep them –
we are keeping them regardless
of their consensus

Golden and angry
they’ll stay in their nest
and in the winter you can put your ear
to the hive, hear the beating
whir of the lion’s heart, an engine
powered by honey

You know, birds’ eyes have four cones
where we have three. They can see
kingdoms in an ultraviolet canopy

Thoughts are in the trees –
living books, and mycorrhizal fungi
tap out signals from their feet

Every day I thank the Lord
the shape that’s buoyed me
in its volume of ancient
recorded oxygen

Pick up a leaf with the labyrinth
of your fingerprints –
it drains into a palimpsest
the map on your palm,
the rivers on the leaf

~ Lady


recent shuffle pool additions

May 30th, 2022

281 – Tear You Apart – She Wants Revenge
282 – Cows – The Suburbs
283 – St. Louis Blues – Aki Takase & Fred Frith
284 – Yellow Dog Blues – Aki Takase & Fred Frith
285 – Whirrrr (Live) – Jimmy Giuffre, Paul Bley, Steve Swallow
286 – Shelly Manne – Charlie Watts & Jim Keltner
287 – Art Blakey – Charlie Watts & Jim Keltner
288 – Packing Up Getting Ready To Go – Taj Mahal & Ry Cooder
289 – Last Of The Hobo Kings – Mary Gauthier
290 – Empty Bed Blues – Judy Henske
291 – TV Baby – Magazine
292 – Artificial Life – Ultrvox
293 – Radiator 110 – Boz Scaggs
294 – Cadillac Walk – Boz Scaggs
295 – Move Along Train – Mavis Staples & Levon Helm
296 – 5-4=Unity – Pavement


Cleveland Gray, 2011, 4:34

May 24th, 2022
a Ball/Smith experiment from 2011, 4:34, Peter Ball music & recording, me words and voices
“Mutant Smith material is quite the churning of the underbelly!– highlights to me so far being High Wind Weather, Onward Ho, S.O.P. and damn, the Cleveland Gray is like a throat walking inside out through an invocation to Howlin Wolf.” — Ben Gulyas


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