Modern poetry collection by contemporary Cleveland poets Lady & Steven B Smith Smith
Smith - contemporary poet
reading room 22
recent words by Lady &/or Steven B. Smith

Ladysteven b. smith
avatar Lady/avatar steve - Lady

Me and Wife-To-Be - 2.6.2006 / The manifest expressiveness of your - 2.11.2006 /
Supercollider - 1.27.2006 / Minimum Wage Rage - 2.11.2006 / Smith 2006 - 2.13.2006 /
Want - 12.13.2005 / Crazy Princess - 12.13.2005 / Your Boy Thing - 12.13.2005 /
Earth Star - 12.13.2005 / Heart Music - 12.13.2005 / Lady - 2.14.2006 /
Agent of Chaos - 2.14.2006 / June Rain - 2.15.2006 /
Sky God - 3.5.2006 / Nirvana - 3.9.2006 / Flow - 3.11.2006 /
Wrong World - 3.14.2006 / Everything was sad & bright - 3.14.2006 /
the eighties are back in style - 3.14.2006 / Brother Jon - 3.14.2006
Me and Wife-To-Be

Me - I only went to jail once for stealing
She - Sometimes I wonder how many crimes you've done
Me - Let's see: Adultery Car theft Vulva licker Armed robbery
Dope dealer Shop lifter Narcotics Speeding Running from police
Smuggling Lying Driving without a license D.U.I. Running red light
Jaywalking Parole violation Probation violation Independent thought

for example
Probation Violation 9.18.1989

Drunk while I intoxicant wipe out fence n fire hydrant
Forbids me
 company unwanted
 and travel out of state
All of which I did:

I drank booze with southern men with beards
I talked philosophy out of state
I smoked psychologist's not psychiatrist's dope
I made an ass of myself
Business unusual
I survived the to and fro
The roads with bygone bankings
The bankers buying lies
And lie
To eat the bodies
Left infirm in hanging

O yes - I also
Stole, killed, cooked and ate a big black & white bird
From Spokane's Nat Park Zoo in the winter of 1962

(and she's still going to marry me)

                   Steven B Smith - 2.6.2006

end    top    poetry    agent of chaos

The manifest expressiveness of your
veined arms, as though veins carry ambition
down to the splayed fingers on your knees.

And my personal textiles--my familiarity
of the curve of your black ribbed socks--
Oh, intelligent socked creatures, your toes.

And your modest waiting eyes, neck in a
downward sideways tilt, waiting for me
to say the next thing, for the continuity
of our existence to ooze over to the next

You gently growl, you tenderly pick up my
hands, bow your head, and kiss my fingers.
You are a tired animal.

                   Lady - 2.11.2006

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All I did was listen to the Fates
I blew up the United States
Now little bits of Texas
Are floating up in space
I blew up the United States
- Was (Not Was) “I blew up the United States”

He makes it so my feet won’t touch the ground
He tells me he’s got bug-fuck love, bat-fuck love
that cancer would have been his answer had I not
come into his life. He would have just let it grow--
smoky through his throat croak-- until you could
see it, bubbling out his caw

The bill extrapolators--certified liars--strap Steve down
on a table. He wears a mask and fake skin, some type of
curious wolf man counting medical sheep
and thanking the universe with a Buddhist mantra

The doctor says to Steve, You will receive a large bill.
Do not be alarmed. This is just procedure. My hands
are tied.

nam myoho renge kyo

Steve’s my superhero, my symbol solution. He tells me
radiation treatments will help develop his latent powers.
He “O’s” his mouth round, smoking super cooled smoke
through thick bent phallic bong as we hear Feinman on
a radio retrospective where the O-ring was found

to have been not thoroughly tested, Steve—let’s test it
some more so it’s best to be married and we’ll play
Was (Not Was) I blew up the United States like seeing
astronauts on the moon in perpetual MTV eternity--

The bands of your voice are melted together now
and we liquidate your assets for our own ride, another
country’s weather, and oh, we are owed

                   Lady - 1.27.2006

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There is a warrantless feeding, a
tap tap tapping and everyone eats
each other in this country

Oh, we don't get into specifics of
anyone who has been arrested. Every
soul is an authorized sleeper and
potential for badness trends over
time as does potential for sadness

I worry for the babies and how
they are going to find a drip of work

I rock myself on the rocking sofa,
imagine it is a big cradle from which
I observe the art on our walls, that
there is just the now and I haven't
yet learned how to worry

Steve says the babies are energy
beings who had to have a bodily form
because they love to live, spirits
in body bottles

Whatever the rich do, they're sure
it is all sustainable because of the
obfuscation of educated vocabularies.
We don't allow classified caveats
because it is all taken care of,
squishing the poor weasels who don't
have luck or health insurance or
the co-worker with untreated cancer
tapping on her education-paid-for
keyboard with minimum wage rage

Oh yeah, and education:
a robot will destroy my life
but I have to pay
for the kill button first.

                   Lady - 2.11.2006

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Smith 2006
9 March 1946 / Wallace Idaho / 6' 2" / 173
poet 42 yrs, artist 41 yrs, publisher 20 yrs, 4 yrs

farm boy cow milker chicken/rabbit/hog waste remover
hod carrier

paper boy
car thief
house wrecker
electronics technician
USNA midshipman
life insurance salesman

armed robber
prison cook
graphic arts salesman
avant-garde theatre manager
bethlehem steel extraman
college graduate
newspaper film/music critic
women's shoe salesman
computer operator
drug dealer
carnival laborer
church janitor

programmer analyst
condo owner

near dead
european traveler

agent of chaos

                   Steven B. Smith - 2.13.2006

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Lady & steven b smith

Lady & Steven B. Smith - 12.13.2005

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Lady & steven b smith

Lady & Steven B. Smith - 12.13.2005

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Lady & steven b smith

Lady & Steven B. Smith - 12.13.2005

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Lady & steven b smith

Lady & Steven B. Smith - 12.13.2005

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Lady & steven b smith

Lady & Steven B. Smith - 12.13.2005

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You lay asleep in the loft water.
You lay with my love, my respect, my friendship, my companionship.
Thank you for coming into my life.
To this catbear, you are my goldilocks savior.
You changed my furniture, chopped my food, checked my throat.
My life within and without is better, finer because of you.
The poet in me is wowed by the poet in you.
Thank you for loving me.
Thank you for giving me someone to love.
Both make me better.
There is nothing i would not do for you.
There is nothing we cannot do together.
You are my poetry.
We are the poem.

                   Steven B. Smith - 2.14.2006

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Agent of Chaos

In our house the variegated book spines, the
piles of cds are shuffled disordered
minisystems--macrocosms that extend beyond
their frames to collude with other frames, to
collude with the observer, me

The door through which I walked is still
partly there. I saw the door--your face--
and how it looked and I remember what I
thought of you, and now I know whether it was
correct or not. The original brunt impression,
thinned lower lip, decisive nose, scowling
mannerisms all came together to form your
collective presence

Now I am through your door and I am
transformed but I do remember how scary it was,
to wonder if it was open or not, or if it was
one of those temporary places like a shadow
on the table or an unwashed plate

                   Lady - 2.14.2006

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June Rain

I want to be in the jazzed up municipal darkness
of Cleveland on a wet June night, orange lights
dancing in the rain puddles, the dog breath
of an open car window and drops misting in,
my hand on shadowed gray vinyl, the car seat
spritzing down the road, a Love Supreme's
Resolution propelling me torward to the lake,
to open car doors, to a joyous boyant bon vivant
a warm forgotten blossom forth

                   Lady - 2.15.2006

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My blaring mind appreciates
the peacefulness of running outside
under the world-wide sky,
my legs made useful

I am a determined woman on the street.
You might see my fisted banging breaths
from your car window

I hop over sidewalk cracks,
and think, how good, how good
to be alive under the open eye
of the sky, to be seen, to

And how good when I am finished
to sit on the stoop outside our
building. I watch traffic spirits pass
indifferent over the shadows of the
trees on the ground, the buildings' blue
shadows, the weathered
paving material

Thrumming blood hums my fingers,
invading my head, renewing enthusiasms
about the possible planet

                   Lady - 3.5.2006

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The rhythm of my petting
the cat's hot pleasured fur
is the rhythm to Nirvana,

I tell Steve.

Steve said there was a sign
he always wanted to steal on
a road between where he lived--
Brahman, Michigan--
and where he had to go for

which was in a place called Nirvana

and there were big white road signs--Nirvana--
and the road's name was Mad Dog 20--
because it curved so much--
the person making the road
was drinking Mad Dog 20
and made all the curves-

Steve said
I was unemployed
from third shift shiftleader
so I was managing 5 ppl and
after a while I got tired for
not being paid for it
and so I asked for a raise
and they said no
and I said I quit
and they said
OK, we will pay
I said it's too late
I quit---
and by the way, can you say
I was let go so I can get

And he said you're quitting
and you ask me if I will
say you were let go so you
can get unemployment?



And then while I was on
unemployment I got
this interview for sludge
flow management
I thought I was qualified, too--
I was educated I was smart--
I didn't get the shit job
and I didn't steal Nirvana--
what more can I say?

I was turned down for a shit job

                   Lady Steve collab 3.9.2006

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I was so much in the flow in Brahman, Michigan.
I walked half a mile up to the highway, stuck out
my thumb, and a guy drove me all the way from
Brahman, Michigan to Chagrin Falls in Ohio. One
way, door-to-door

And during that time--DMT time--I had collaged
my notebook with word balloons from comic books
and at least twice on that time word balloons would
answer my questions, like one time I asked my
notebook What should I do now?

And a word balloon said, Well, now we eat

And later it was raining so I was high up
under a highway underpass, smoking DMT-soaked
parsley and reading one of my religious books
a small, black Brotherhood book

I looked up and it was still raining, and I looked
down and saw I had 20, 30 pages left to go and I said
Well, I'll finish the book, and when I stop
the rain will stop, the sun will come out

I finished the book, rain stopped, sun came out

I stood up in laughter, said some sort of joke
to God, to reality, and it was at God's expense,
and I stood up laughing

Lost my balance, and ended up sitting in a
puddle of rainwater

I made a joke on God, God made a joke on me
by getting my ass wet

On the way back--hitchhiking back--this
very attractive girl pulled over and picked me up
and she said, Oh shit, if you're going to kill
me, kill me now

And then she explained that she was on
speed and she had to have somebody to talk to

And I said, I can help that, and I reached
down into my pack and she flinched,
and I pulled out my pipe and some marijuana,
and got her stoned

And she drove me all the way back to
Chagrin and gave me her phone number
but at that point I was being faithful to
another man's wife and never called her.
That was one of my regrets

                   Lady Steve collab 3.11.2006

end    top    poetry    agent of chaos

Wrong World

My living room has the quietness
of the placement of things,
untended dust on the windowsill
The dead pope is on TV.

The volume is mute. The pope
nods and gestures, raising
an embroidered arm

My cat swallows,
moans in hot sleep

I am bored with myself so
I change the channel in my head;
I think about lovemaking and
my stomach tightens. Excitement
constricts my breath and pinches
my tits and surprises me

And then my mental weather turns.
It's anxiety, survival planning,
my estranged tape loop.
Global warming over and over

I cannot relate the ubiquitous
sightings of Jennifer Aniston
at the checkout line
and my ears sour to the
obfuscated utterances of NPR's yes-men

It's a derailed future, the wrong world.
It's all been a terrible mistake

                   Lady - 3.14.2006

end    top    poetry    agent of chaos

Everything was sad and bright
like a January morning,
a puff of frozen breath

She had painful eyes,
wet and deep and direct
glistening as she listened to you

And a wiry body
and fiery cosmology,
the constellations of friends and
brothers in perpetual descent,
suicides falling silently,
firecrackers falling through firecrackers
or a candle flame dipping into
itself, the abundance of
an unrecorded history

                   Lady - 3.14.2006

end    top    poetry    agent of chaos

the eighties are back in style
opening zebra-striped possibility
I will be a girlfriend
I will wear a hat and a scarf
and a flower and sneakers
a totally ecstatic fanatic psychopath

                   Lady - 3.14.2006

end    top    poetry    agent of chaos

Brother Jon

Hey bright eyes! You're
the Gerber baby fished
from Mom, not talking until
four, frogging all over the
floor, an exclamation point

You have good eyes, an
immutable body. You take
my breath away. We thought
we'd caught a lungful

Mom! Hey Mom! You should
really say something to him.
In the dream you let him
play with the axe - he cuts
off his leg

It's thin air in here! He
wants to put his infinity
on zero, sign up and serve
his country

Love him a lot! It's a military
kill. Too much oil, too much
spill. Oh, he'll do what he'll do
He's really here now.

They'll put him in some place
out of mind where what you don't know
can hurt you

                   Lady - 3.14.2006

reading room 23

Lady assemblages & photographs - gallery 1

Lady fotos & assemblages - gallery 2

selected Lady poems 2005 - 2006

selected older Lady poems

Lady / Steven B. Smith poetry collaborations


10 top poems | 10 top collages | 10 top illustrations | 10 top fotos

agent of chaos | collage | what's new | guest artists | guest poets

e mail smith at smithcrimes @-sign yahoo dot com

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