Thursday, November 17, 2022

Gray Days in Cleveland


—Poetry and Visuals by Smith  
(Steven B. Smith), Cleveland, OH
Sitting in the low-light morning
of another Cleveland grey day
rain rapping roof
soothing this beast at least
two clocks ticking reminding me of me
thunder somewhere distant rumbling
mumbling its quantum ties
fireplace playing
happy edging about in curiosity
somewhat outside my lines of lies
I feel hopefully inadequate
not up to the task

"of what?" you might ask

its before
and after
 Black Cat Rising

Lady's morning FB status:

"Ah for a cozy, comfy, worry-free world.
Where every room is a candle of a different height,
and all the doors delight to delight."

—Lady 10.15.2022

I'm a high-speed
hitting black ice at night kinda guy
and it's getting old

I have no mouth but scream
Autumn Leaves
Running on pain, caffeine, and weed
loss, and want, and need
past the winking abyss
and the terror of this
and the stain of the blood in the bleed
 Left Turn

Life along the asphalt
fear-mongers feeding folk
yolk of discontent

First word of the day
and the last

Driving concrete highway
concrete before
concrete after
concrete both sides
concrete beneath

 Butterfly Effect


Gray gloom blooms
Over my head
Dims my dimmer
Breaks my bread
Hurts my heart
Aches my gut
Empties my bucket of luck

Mom’s dead
Dad died
The homework ate my dog
My money fled
My President lied
He's helping the rich instead
(what a big surprise)

Feeling blue what do I do to shake
this Cleveland gray?

No home heart warmth
To keep me sane
Shadow sun forgotten same

Jams my brain
Makes hope a corpse
And life a pain
Over and over again

Maybe get some sleep
Or take a toke
Or shuck a sheep
Or shake a joke
Or just drown in downtown brown
Cuz I tell you true I’m feeling blue
Gotta shake these Cleveland grays

—Music by Peter Ball; Word/voice by Smith, 2011, 4:34
Plato's Rose

Today’s LittleNip (sounds like Smith needs
a BiggerNip…):

I was breast man
at Mammary's wedding
nippled in the bud


Our thanks to Smith, who is going through some major pain these days as a result of a fall he took last month, and subsequent surgery. Of course, poets are always taking the fall for one thing or another, but this was a harsh physical one that left Steven with a shitload of pain to carry. Hang in there, SBS, and keep writing it out. We’ll be rootin’ for ya. (Smith just passed the seven-year mark in Medusa postings; here’s to another seven years, then another, then another…)

Thursdays are big poetry days in NorCal. Tonight we have Open Mic Night with Oke Junnior at MACC in Rancho Cordova; Poetry Night Reading Series in Davis with Natachi Mez and André Naffis-Sahely; and Joe Montoya’s Poetry Unplugged at Luna’s Cafe and Juice Bar in Sacramento. Click UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS at the top of this column for details about these and other future poetry events in the NorCal area—and keep an eye on this link and on the Kitchen for happenings that might pop up during the week.


—Visual by Smith

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

Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
Get well soon, Steven!