Friday, December 22, 2017

Just Cuz: Mirrors & Moments

Wide Mouth Smith
—Poems and Photos by Smith, Cleveland, OH


First stroke—cannabis toke
second service—sip of caffeine


Gear engaged
cog converging
fog of wisp away

Now we wait for sun to rise
as today's game begins again
in seep of yesterday's weep

 Every Day


In dark before dawn
clutching cup of hot black coffee
poised between was and will
not quite is
licking wounds
weighing pain
seeing how much grass is left
to ease me through
the three reals of time
before the rock
during the rock
after the rock
and as always
the hill
the rise
the mountain
the sweat unsweet
doing today yesterday
tomorrow today
now now
now being walk to work
push up hill
drag back home
to repeat unnecessary
serial solar recycle

 Full Speed Ahead


Just cuz a field's been picked
don't mean it's empty

I ain't got much left to leak
getting low on go

Losing meek but moving too slow
to win end-ribbon treat

Just cuz you don't want to
don't mean you shouldn't

Looking through the recipe book
to see how I measure up

Either an empty or half-full cup
depending on how you look

Just cuz it is
don't mean it is

 All Risk


Spirit and bone, bone and spirit— 
which the rein, which the stirrup?

Bone in body, body round bone—
which one jester, which one throne?

Right hand laughs as left goes long
cuz nothing's right, nothing's wrong.

Two left feet or lack of spine?
Neither one's a crime.

Mind or brain or mental gain
depend on aim of game.

These are your multiple choice questions—
don't leave answers, just suggestions.

 Pastel Shell


The lie
"After this, therefore because of this"
is true

cuz treadmill don't stop
stomach don't quit
rent don't go away

no winner's circle
no golden ring

and the view down the road
looks to be a bad disaster movie
with its tacky tawdry
unfun unfair
one more Zen joke on folk

so it's down to mirrors and moments:

who do you see in the mirror in the morning
when you hold your moments close?



There's rock,
there's hill,
there's knowing what to do.

But rocks can break,
hills wear away,
and knowing's site-specific.

So I could lose my gig,
have no place to go,
no rock, no hill, no roll.

Got no retirement fund,
no fallback plan,
no rescue from the mud.

Heading up to Big Box Store,
apply as a greeter
to remain an eater.

So sayeth me,
surplus meat
in this land of sharpened teeth.



The soundtrack without sound
in a movie never made

The apple of the paring
for the pie that wasn't baked

The scratch of itch not coming
after sneeze aborts in air

The weight of daily drubbing
knowing fair is never fair

Final stride at end of day
which began with one at dawn

The learning from your "betters"
that you're not even pawn

Looking in the morning mirror
hoping not to see an ass

The pocket ever empty
weighing wallet's minus mass



All is not as is perceived,
though good is good in friends I see.
New-met folk seem kind to me,
And even strangers help in need.
There's bad and wrong and ugly spell,
yet much less than was thought to tell,
but most our good folk got no gots
so working hard to raise their lot.

I am not rat, I do not roll,
I will not be your tootsie role,
it's truth I seek and chains to lose
in finding through this field of fool.

Not much time to police police
or research vote to aid in ease,
must eat to work and work to feed
to keep ongoing family
on starting track awaiting bell
to salivate our way to well,
it's not quite right but there's no time
to solve it all by closing rhyme.

Click for music by Peter Ball, vocals by Smith, 2014:


Today’s LittleNip:


The monkey offers
Buddha branch of honeycomb.

Buddha accepts and says
"Hey monkey, wanna get stoned?
Let's head for parts unknown."


—Medusa, with many thanks to Smith (Steven B. Smith) for today’s fine poems and photos in his inimitable style!

 Zencat Crack
—Photo by Smith
Celebrate Poetry!

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