The Smiths Pay Us A Visit

Elf Lady

—Poems and Visuals by Smith and Lady, Cleveland, OH

PRIVATE EYE SMOKEY GREY

i come to sip yer honey, honey,
my sticky bee—
internal hive memory

nothing personal, just duty.
howdy duty. by jingo. by golly.
by jolly we'll be an external

manifestation

of an inner

conversation

we spark the waters
hold 'em up
do the dirty bop

i need some heart gravy.
give me some heart gravy baby—
lounge lizard rhythm in
polyester time 

 Bookmaking Lady

FRENCH KISS

Remember the French Kiss?
I don’t think the French
invented it, do you?

I think it was that
little snake
in the Garden of Eden,
that little
slither tongue.

Ohh, come hither
come hither

that little snake
that little snake

 Collage by Lady

OLD DEBBIL WEED

If Eve hadn't given Adam that apple
I wouldn't be smoking today
Even so
I tried to serve Sky God
but I was drawn to that old Debbil Weed
I became a happy pappy
papa puff daddy
gadfly to gladly
nouveau bohemian in old school crowd
Sir Laugh-a-Lot of Pot-a-Lot
to Queen MaryJane
Lady Day to Lady K
Kafka to a kiss 

 Lady Poet

EVER NOW

I'm normally normal
but just not now
and it's always now

there're two times:
there's now,
and
not now

today,
and
not today

it's never tomorrow

that's why I'm nearly normal
nominally now 

 She/He Smith

SOUND & WATER

water is sneaky. also, patient, and insidious.
it'll beat against you for thousands of years
in big waves
until it smooths you down
or breaks you apart.
      
or it'll lie still in quiet pools,
and insidiously work
on the weakest
point

leaking

and

dripping

and moving.

and then when water does slowly sneak
inside, and lies in wait,
it can FREEZE and EXPAND with

TREMENDOUS FORCE and BREAK

(so water is sneaky,
insidious
and
patient.)

while SOUND is slippery
(and sneaky)

SOUND slip slides off every flat surface

SOUND double or triple slip slides..

skips from here
to there

(so you think what came from there
came from here.)

SOUND plays tag with yr ears
and lies
a lot.

plus, in destructive force, SOUND
(shatters)

whereas
water

wears away

 South France

PA TURNPIKE

I was driving—I think at night—
thru the hills of Pennsylvania on the turnpike
and I'd taken a toke and all of a sudden
my vision blacked out I couldn't see
and I said

Well that's interesting,
but if you're going to play this way you
have to tell me the rules, give me a clue—

and all of a sudden I could see a U.
This giant U appeared, like it's odd,
I can't tell you where it was but this
giant U appeared. And when the U
would start to tilt and go to the left,
I would tilt the wheel and make
it go back straight. And after a while
my vision came back in, and I could
see again, and I was right in my lane,
going round a corner, and I was right
where I was supposed to be!

I never panicked, never worried
but said OK if you're gonna change
the rules you gotta give me a clue.

That might have been DMT. It all
gets confusing after a while

 Southern France

PUMPKIN TIME

You know what time it is?
It’s pumpkin time.

No, not pumpin time
Pumpkin time

cuz at midnight
everything turns into
a pumpkin
and the mice run away

Now midnight you also might
be pumpin pie,
depends on what yer doin
at the time

Somethin
you might be fuckin
might turn into a pumpkin

So you fuckin pumpin
pumpkin pie

 Tri-lady

GOOD COP STORY

Fueling the car,
outside Brahman, Michigan

Hose broke.
Got gas all over my white pants

Went to the men's room,
washed my pants in cold water

Put 'em back on
but I don't wear underwear—
wasn't pleasant—

So driving down road
as passenger,
took my pants off
hung 'em out window to dry—

State trooper pulls us over

I'm indignant,
arrogant

We hadn't broken any laws

But he just wanted to check,
thought my white pants
were a flag for help

I apologized.

As he turns to leave,
he points at the marijuana pipe in the ashtray.
Says,
Might wanna hide that

That's that,
a good cop story

And I was an asshole

 Veil Lady

 

Today’s LittleNip:

CATNIP
—Smith & Lady

Mature cat seeks young kitten
for yarn pull

You pull my yarn,
I'll purr yers

____________________

Today we celebrate the poetry and photos of Smith (Steven Smith) & Lady, who have collaborated on all of these, five of which have appeared on Medusa previously. Thank you and happy holidays to the Smiths, all the way from Cleveland! Don’t they make a lovely couple? 

 
Tonight at 7:30pm, James Lee Jobe invites you to an all-open mic at The Other Voice in Davis, an event which he’s calling “Poetry for the soul, and socks for the sole”. Come read your poetry at the Unitarian Universalist Church on Patwin Rd. in Davis, and bring new socks, any size, for the Interfaith Rotating Winter Shelter. Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about this and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.

_____________________


FORM FIDDLERS FRIDAY!

 
It’s time for another contribution from Form Fiddlers! Each Friday for awhile, there will be a poem posted here from some of our readers, using forms—either ones which were mentioned on Medusa during the previous week, or whatever else floats through the Kitchen and the perpetually stoned mind of Medusa. If these instructions are vague, it's because they're meant to be. Just fiddle around with some forms and get them posted in the Kitchen.

Today we’re talking about the Paradelle, once invented by Billy Collins to parody the Villanelle. Joyce Odam has sent these two for us, and she writes:

"I am sending you two of my joyously-inherited-mischief poems, a la Billy Collins’ Paradelle, which so many rejected as hoax, then went on to take seriously as a legitimate form, even after he admitted it was a hoax. I was up till 2:00 in the morning with my first effort, years back, not to be out-witted in this brilliant piece of… what WOULD the word be for it, anyway...?  I was dog-d to the bone and pleased with my efforts. Today I send both, for the comparison of difference..."

Paradelle: Old (eleventh century) French Fixed Form of four 6-line stanza. 1st & 2nd lines, as well as the 3rd & 4th lines, of each stanza must be identical; the 5th & 6th lines resolve these stanzas, and must use all and only the words from the preceding stanzas. The final stanza must use every word from all the preceding stanzas, and only those words.

Form source: “Paradelle for Susan” from Picnic, Lightning by Billy Collins; see blogs.warwick.ac.uk/zoebrigley/entry/billy_collins_paradelle/.

For more about the Paradelle, go to www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/poetic-asides/poets/poetic-form-paradelle/.

Here are Joyce’s Paradelles, and many thanks to her for them:

PARADELLE
—Joyce Odam

When is a poem not just a line of words?

When is a poem not just a line of words?

There were two lovers once. Name them who you must.

There were two lovers once. Name them who you must.

When a poem is two lovers, you must name them – once,

just once – when a poem is not who – not just two lovers.

And then the sadness was over – is that how it goes?

And then the sadness was over – is that how it goes?

How far away we are – after all that time…

How far away we are – after all that time…

that the sadness was aft . . . that time was far away . . .

how we are the sadness, after all. Over. Over. It all goes.

Mirror, break the myth of love.

Mirror, break the myth of love.

You said. And I said. And we believed each other.

You said. And I said. And we believed each other.

Mirror, we believed – love, the myth each believed –

and I, the other myth, said, “And we break each other.”

Of love, there were words. And you said,

“Must you name them!” And then a line of time . . .

is that how we are – and who –

. . . of a line – of how it goes — ?

How far away is that? There were words.

Then I said, “Mirror . . . ” And you said, “Break . . . ”

* * *

PARADELLE FOR CHILDHOOD TRAUMA
—Joyce Odam

I remember the floating fish on the sunlit water.
I remember the floating fish on the sunlit water.
Death was contained in a warped dimension.    
Death was contained in a warped dimension.
Floating on the death, a warped dimension was
contained in the sunlit fish.  I remember water.   

All such memory fills the window.
All such memory fills the window.
Child never knows what fears become.         
Child never knows what fears become.
Fears become what all such memory knows:
the window Child never fills.

All day it rains, and all night.
All day it rains, and all night.
Time is hungry.  It feeds itself.
Time is hungry.  It feeds itself.
All day time rains.
and all night it feeds itself.  It is hungry. 

I remember the sunlit water. 
All day it rains and never fills the window.
Time is itself—hungry.  It feeds.
Child knows what all fears become,
contained in such memory all night: death
was the fish, floating on a warped dimension.  


(first pub. in Poets’ Forum Magazine, 2007)


There’s a link at the top of Medusa’s Kitchen called, “Medusa Mulls/Forms, Etc.” which expresses some of Medusa's (take ‘em or leave 'em) opinions about the use of forms in poetry. Anyway, give ‘em a shot! Whaddaya got to lose….? If you send ‘em, I’ll post ‘em.

_________________________

—Medusa, celebrating the joy of poetry, celebrating the joy of poetry ~

 Smith & Ladysmith: Their Day in the Sun

Photos in this column can be enlarged by
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