Gotta Go For The Moments

  Fragile
—Poetry and Visuals by Smith, Cleveland, OH

 

 

Sometimes the nothing
is nothing at all
and sometimes it's something

And sometimes it is all
like this black shadow cat
purring in my black denim lap

Here in Entropyland
you gotta go for the moments

 

 

 

 Darthmundo

Man I'm zinging
too much CAFFEINE stomping my lizard
plus wig's tightened considerably
considering tokes taken gummies infused
zing zanging my Zig Zagging
tanking yet more coffee
riding the red line

remembering back
wife and I picked coffee in Mexico
on steep side of mountain
above the clouds
river sounds somewhere below
lizards fucking on stump
pineapples growing from ground
vanilla vines hugging coffee tree trunk
like the snake sniffing Eve
so tired at end of day
I almost fell off mountain climbing back to bed

on busride home stop
stood on a boulder bulging from the mountain
and pissed on the white clouds below

they say function sum junction
for max consumption
or somethin'
at least that's my assumption

but wife and I've met angels more than once
seen some slime
have new angles on meat and mind

 

 

 

Praybones

NOTES DURING 9 DAYS HOSPITAL
AFTER BEING GUTTED

Quick couple clicks of Dilaudid
Elvis' favorite drug
not doing much

Death is a cautious creature
prefers unlocking doors

Circular face appeared on suppy cabinet
b&w 3/4's Keith Richards
welcoming me to Survivors Club
followed by tinny wail of David Bowie's Fame
and Leonard Cohen's Fingerprints
maybe the Dilaudid's working after all

Shadows from unknown angles
showing strange numbers without reason

Been hearing wife's voice
explaining our situation out in the hall
but she's home
not here
maybe I'm hearing her prayers

Ride the pain train for the famous
fame for the rest

Must be considered
I'm seeing what's considered differently

Six days since solids
five days clear liquids
first sip black caffeine and chicken broth
pure ecstasy

If I don't piss
they put catheter back in
don't poop, don't go home

Wife 27 years younger
stealing time from stressed work line
to be with me in hospital
in case I die

Writing poem notes
sets off alarm from taped oxygen measurer
poetry is dangerous

4:20 a.m.
hit the Dilaudid button
Elvis would be proud

Keith Richards' blessing appearance
wife's phantom prayers in hall
keep the current going

Some suffering is spent
crawling to the future
pain price to come

It's a downhill slope
mind gets wiser, body weaker
the cost of continuing

5th day after gutting me
imbibing caffeine and Dilaudid
rare Cleveland sunshine

Pain grows
blossoms into brilliance
backstabs my own

In hospital room
shivering with cold
wife gives me sweater off her back

Buy now!
Get one free!
Guaranteed money back!
late night TV

Gotta tell you
weary, hurt, and worry
not best place to be

How long body
can spirit hold on
and still be worth it

Have to live long enough
to see Trump the Feces
finally flushed

Crashing into body pain
climbing out and writing
Smith is disaster artist

There's always small print
trying to balance my pain meds
with pooping

Swollen scrotum
not enough room between thighs
and size

Black coffee from top
suppository up bottom
jumpstart my machine

Wife calls
asks how I am
I weep

Nurse comes in
asks if she can look at my scrotum
tell her she's the first to ever ask that
we laugh
tell her there's an old country swing song
Big Balls In Cow Town
she says I know the most interesting things

Glad I'm taking notes
all this is what the mind wipes
so flesh can continue

They once called me stoneface
today talking luck in wife and life
I weep four times

Overhear my roommate on phone
old thin small black man
"This is a big one Luke
they got me this time"

Hour before dawn
and next hospital pain pill
trying to find my way

Stuck in hospital
till I feces flush
so I do my doo-doo duty

Bio me
bio you
biome we

I shit my pants
doc says go home
I weep

Last day turns on me
cable TV quits
food turns bad
comes late

Gotta grim and grit it
as I leak my lizard

"This somber season has its solicitudes"
wife says, sipping hot coffee

Pull battered flesh
from bind of bed
into damn of day

It gets basic down at the lifeline
no baby Buddha bouncing in a box

I'm half human
not the good half
just the pain

Doctor says she put her hand in my chest
and my heart beat against it

Each pain's passing
shows hundreds lurking below

Gut cut from pubis to sternum
50 staples holding belly together
pure will fighting high pain
but soon now will be then

I have to dance on the leaves
sing with the shadows

 

 

 

 Mushroom Eye

Today’s LittleNip:

I stare long into my black coffee
it stares deep into me
it goes to sleep

—smith

___________________

—Medusa, welcoming Steven B. Smith to the Survivor’s Club, as he sings with the shadows for his 100th post in Medusa’s Kitchen! Gutted he was (abdominal surgery), and lived to tell us about it…

And congrats to Steven and Lady Kathy on their 18th anniversary last Monday!

 

 

 

 Celebrate

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A reminder that
Third Thursdays at the Library
takes place in Sacramento at
noon today;
Poets and Writers Workshop
meets at 5:30pm in
Cameron Park; and
Poetry in Davis features
Kim Stanley Robinson and Laurie Glover
in Davis tonight, 7pm.
For info about these and other
future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
 during the week.

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.

Find previous four-or-so posts by scrolling down
under today; or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column; or find previous poets
by typing the name of the poet or poem
 into the little beige box at the top
left-hand side of today’s post; or go to
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom of
the blue column at the right
 to find the date you want.

Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. 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!

 

50 staples!