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Friday, August 26, 2016

Looking for the Nice in the Nasty

Slim Shadow Smith
—Photos, Poems and Artwork by Smith 
(Steven B. Smith), Cleveland, OH



THE 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



 Worry Farm



SERPENT MOUND, SOUTHERN OHIO

320 million years ago
a meteor dug a five-mile crater
raising a rock ridge one thousand feet
in southern Ohio
where five thousand years ago
or one thousand years ago
or both
or neither
the Adena Culture
or the Ancient Fort Culture
or both
or neither
built an earthwork serpent
1,348 feet long 3 feet high 17 feet wide
laying rock for foundation
covering rock with yellow clay
clay with soil
and soil in sod
from coiled tail undulation
through sinuous body
to the 3rd cosmic eye of the art deco head
where the great serpent Uktena
swallows the setting solstice sun.



 Shadowland



UNKNOWN NIPPLE

Your nipple
Though we've yet to meet
Must surely seek to touch
My tongue's erectile tissue
Which seeks south to nether musk
Past inward-looking navel
Which wise in eastern ways
When rocked in western rhythm
Knows what in maya may
Be only sleek illusion
Wonders reaped and sown
In peaks before the valley
Down treasure's traveled road
Where promise wraps forgiven
Its penis-premised trap
Where truth in life is hidden
And minor deaths enact
Their furtive nightly burden
When joy it should be danced
And future fear forgiven
Like past purveyed by chance  

Your eyes so solemn watching
Your lips promised pursuit
Your soul silent searching
Your heart no kindness fused
To form for wanting giving
To life its lift and shine
My love it spurts in wanting
Your flesh your spirit wine
Within your skin whenever
Blessings cross my brow
Profane in sacred wanting
Pure light enough for now
But o o unknown nipple
O mind of supple bliss
O soul unsullied, simple
On me bestow your kiss



 Thataway



ZEN WEND

Looking for the nice in the nasty
the quiet in the chaos
the kind in the mean

Trying to miss the mud
seeking happy in midst of sad
the still in rush of stream






STATUS REPPORT 227

Open freezer looking for nibbles
find none

Open fridge yet again for immediate eats
find none

Closing door I see wife's note:

R U HUNGRY
ENOUGH TO
EAT AN
APPLE??

Yes!

Grab apple
bite into spoiled pulp
spit it out

No Eve she
 





BLUES HAPPY

Got no money but I got good luck
it keeps me going when things get stuck
or break or broke or leak or lose
good luck beats betting on the blues

though I bet on life and times and such
it seems to work cuz I got right much
got wool slippers on feet from loving wife
and wormhole tales of adventurous life

    art on walls, books on shelf
    music seeping self to self
    one or two tokes to ease my mind
    cowboy coffee to kick my behind

Stocking cap that fits my head
eases me from cold of dread
words and images swarm in and out
seem quite happy to stop awhile hang out

cat and couch and rug on floor
kinda greedy to ask for more
just glad the days pop along so strong
and weaving word in deed and song


[. . . bouncy bit of faux reggae with music by Peter Ball (1949-2015), word & voice by Smith at www.reverbnation.com/mutantsmith/song/20493717-blues-happy]



 Circle Unbroken



STATUS REPORT 168

Rats sing.
Rats laugh.
Rats line their nests
with gnawed American money.

The rich sing.
The rich laugh.
The rich also line their nests
with money not their own.

I prefer rats.
They do it for love.



 Night Into Day



BUDDHA BANG

San Francisco 1966
done sailing sea
I search the streets
for drugs and sex
two Asian beauties quip
“Hey sailor, wanna get higher?"
Short story short
to temple depart
chant and ching the Buddha thing
in incensed air
I bought their wares
chose $6 chant
and they took me back
the old bait and switch
I go for sex
get enlightenment.

_________________

Today’s LittleNip:

A flock of phlox
outside our door
bursting into sun

—Smith

_________________

—Medusa, with thanks to Smith (Steven B. Smith) for today’s fine artwork and poetry, all the way from Cleveland!



 —Smith
Celebrate poetry, appearance and emptiness as you
scroll down to the blue column (under the green 
column at the right) for info about upcoming readings in 
our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.










Photos in this column can be enlarged by clicking on them once,
then click on the X in the top right corner to come back
to Medusa.