ocean walk

the cold wind blew uncut

as ocean waves kicked stone gray jetties

large gaping cracks between the rocks

long suggestive pauses in our dialogue

steps away a homasote haunted castle

beyond a secret mist two blocks

in the distance a single

block between what we said and

what pooled below the surface

moist light beach sand crisp night air

a buoy on the horizon this is your turf

your haunting ground the smells salt sweet

gulls and mussels and popcorn blended

inseparable from that late summer visit

our individual yet tethered travels

returning each of us again to us

in our own ocean so deep we may not swim

beyond the mystery

of the tingling unhinging phrases unstrung

broken guitar strings a chipped boardwalk

recollection

stunning afternoon thru evening tones

incidental sublimations consequential

quirks of fate probing endless questions

colored by scattered sighs barely audible

experience unsaid unconsummated ties

that clouds cover us and the moon

that night one of our full moons

stalking us the jangle of atlantic city

fading in the distance

your tales of dancing on the steel pier

hints, whispered non-sequiturs, double entendres

glimpses ? wishes ? desires ?

a circle of sand around your blanket

endless conversation smoke inside

my eyes around your eyes

(should we touch) (should we try ? )

we did not and

wondered why...

-- douglas brent smith

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Wild Towers

Wild Towers -- collage by Douglas Brent Smith Notes: In the lower right corner is one of my favorite photos -- my brother Dave and me at Grandmom and Grandpop Rogers' house. If you look closely you can see Grandpop Rogers sitting in his chair. He was probably reading the newspaper, the Bridgeton Evening News. It was a great newspaper in those days and Grandpop read it front to back every night. There are more clear versions of this picture, probably even in other collages because I love it so much. Those were wonderful days and I miss my little brother so much.

Note to Self 20230423

If you keep working your craft you will be amazed at how much you've learned and how much more there is yet to learn. -- doug smith

Gears of Joy

Gears of Joy, collage by Douglas Brent Smith This is page 305 of Journal #33, Life in Progress.

Why Gamble?

The less we make our world look like a casino the better off we'll be. -- Doug smith Notes: Just for fun, I added this collage. It is not a casino.

Bugs In The System

Bugs In The System, collage, mixed media by Douglas Brent Smith

The Towers of Vettunder

The Towers of Vettunder - painting by Douglas Brent Smith, acrylic. This one feels like another cover to a science fiction novel. In the 70's I might have tried to write that book. Maybe it's not too late.

Horse Named Hannah

the horse got free in a galloping hurry needed something to read and a tall cup of milk I did post this earlier under the title "Who Let the Horse In." Here it is again. Horse Named Hannah -- sketch by douglas brent smith, 1998, from Journal #33, Life In Progress

Framed By A Notion

Framed By A Notion, Collage by douglas Brent smith, 1996

This Is Not A Code

This Is Not A Code -- collage by douglas brent smith

With Every Available Device

With Every Available Device -- painting by Douglas Brent Smith, December 1976. This is another of the series of acrylic paintings that I did in Oak Lawn, IL, living with Mom and Jack for a brief few months. My favorite art movement is surrealism, and this one clearly emulates the work of the surrealists, in particular Yves Tanguy . When I moved from Colorado to Newtown in 2016 I threw away a number of my paintings, many from this period of time. I did not like them enough to keep them, I guess although I feel some regret at heaving them, one can't save everything and I live in an apartment that's about 600 square feet. No real storage room. This one survived the cut.

douglas brent smith

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