That Dead-End Street

 

Choices

—Poetry and Visuals by Smith, Cleveland, OH 

77-yr-old bones going 80 in a 70 zone
stopping to piss
at the dead-end street to nowhere

 

 

 

 Yesnomaybe

 

CLIFF NOTES

Life is like the leaves—
breath and chance and sweet romance
in and out we weave

Finish my coffee
feed the cat to stop her squeak
fix her wanting wheel

My progress raises
some questions of gestation
and delivery

I figure that grass
is herbal meditation
for slowing the fast

While coffee's flowing
liquid speed in legal form
sanctioned by the law

But that's just within
what's the jive around and bout
out in nature's hood

Spring sprungs from brown ground
first pinks and yellow sparkles
then the reds and whites

Summer steeps in sun
lazy licks and likes and fun
with your special one

Fall autumn red leaf
yellow tree drops one gold tear
grass green with envy

Winter smacks us low
nasty ice and biting snow
nowhere nice to go

 

 

 

 Gapland

 

Close your eyes
listen to the footsteps
going someplace unseen

 

 

 

Which Side Up

 

I keep shuffling along the lines
of should and shouldn't
can't or won't
do and don't
adding sizzle to the fizzle
bizzle to the bone
especially where the where and why and when
not yet known

 

 

 

 As Above, So Below

 

Whatcha got?
you got this
you got that
you got your in-between
but what's it mean
waiting for the shit tsunami to hit
plucking pearls from pus
glad for this
over that
dark on ought
awaiting plot

 

 

 

 Quantum Tunnel

 

I'll have you know my yes is right
the world's piss poor yet quite a delight
after storms rainbows glow
out of shit magic mushrooms grow

 

 

 

 Tooo

 

Back from road trip
with nary a poem
strange

 

 

 

The Two of Us

 

DEVOLUTION

We pull from water to land
land to tree
tree to you and me
with but small change
always fighting, fleeing
eating, sleeping
procreating
repeating
me first
you last
mine matters
you but rung on ladder
to get me higher
or snack to slow monster
so I get away faster.

Yet we link atoms
ply plastic
weave wampum
fan tastic
walk on moon
braid electron
split light
site elastic
and lie with ease
we are our own disease.

We come from oneness
in probability plane
yet grab for space
in none numbness
entangle time
demand spotlight
trample tribe
hold tight
to special someness.

This poem is mine
but I didn't write it
I'm just ink
to help you sight it
if cows were kings
and kings but coy
I'd ride my remorse
and become a coyboy

 

 

 

Radiate

 

 

Today’s LittleNip:

Driving fast
on a donut tire
hoping for the best

—Smith

___________________

—Medusa, thanking the incorrigible Smith for his poems and lovelies-to-look-at today—as he says, we’re all hoping for the best!

Click on Medusa's UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS (http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html) for details about NorCal events tonight and about 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. Today there’s Third Thursdays at noon in the Sacramento Library; a workshop at 5:30pm in Cameron Park; Poetry in Davis tonight; and one of the last readings for Poetry Unplugged at Luna’s Cafe in Sacramento, 8pm. 

 

 

 

Abolish Humans

 

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
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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!