douglas brent smith

do you think the hoops'll play? no, we'd better go with fire they just eat it up when i swallow the flame bit but it's too windy we might set each other on fire (how's that for a big finish?) no, the balls, we'll do the juggling steals maybe some magic (slight of  hand) hey! did you bring the accordion? the guitars will never carry in this wind and yes it's cold but we're down to our last dollar and Quick! here comes some kids put on the big red shoes we are on! -- douglas brent smith NOTES: When Peter and I did these types of shows (not sure if this one was sponsored or if we were busking) our hair (yes, we once had hair!) was so long that catching on fire was a legitimate concern. At times, we could smell hair burning.  The hoops that we used were hand-made by Peter and covered in cloth tape. They were not completely round. If we had more money in our pockets then maybe we could have put fresh strings on our guitars so that they would resonate louder, even

there must have been three or four reasons why the cards in your hand shook waiting on the meld smoke swirling around your lip (swollen from the mouthpiece of a stubborn trumpet) sky writing secret indecipherable signals playing your hand against your partner's  lack of bullets "nothing but clothes" you said a handful of jacks and queens powerless in the endgame of tricks but that's not what you were thinking of i could tell with the gin nearly empty and the ashtray full of roaches some sweet lucid larceny was taking place and for a moment eyes meeting eyes you pick-pocketed a parcel of unsung refrains from within me and never cracked a smile. -- douglas brent smith

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

there were chance meetings distributed miles and months touching us taunting us locking us into a long tight wire of vibrating nuance you knew this, and kept on dancing i knew this, and...what? what  did it mean? how would it turn? oh how we would yearn...oh how we would learn.  

you dance to any number of different melodies counterpoint included shadows and obscure warnings aside what matters is the moment of decision the direction (the action) the tree limb that bends in the wind never curses the rain it takes many different notes to complete a symphony and the twelve tones of reason serve as aids not limitations the only lies we tell (whispered to shadows) as rests in the measure (the measure of our beat) the heat from growing pressure cuts the tension with release. -- douglas brent smith 

in the land of collage the parts of the whole are not merely parts of the whole touching convincingly embracing connection they ARE the whole picture functioning as one.                                        the vision                                        amounts                                        to                                        everything. -- douglas brent smith

sleepless resting scattered flecks, invisible wisdom floating sending encoded messages in slumberland tones nearly imperceptable the white noise of unknown visitors walking as ghosts spirits in disguise inside pulsing faces in the mist in the midst of eval or a ion... -- douglas brent smith   

she watched me repeatedly cutting random pictures from stacks of magazines, old books, catalogues, yearbooks, newspapers, and never questioned why and gave secret smiles and all was right whatever else we've done you did make it more fun. -- douglas brent smith The Green Kiss of Departure - collage by douglas brent smith  

the cityscape skyline triggers figures certain wild untamed sophistication gathered neon electric smoky fast gathered                     forces forces our focus beyond the eye's  tries for unity into the scattered invitation to collage. -- douglas brent smith  

maybe the cosmic scheme of things looks like a jigsaw puzzle to you because you have a box full of missing pieces but they could easily have been found falling from another puzzle and together (if you can picture this) could be. -- douglas brent smith  

  she sits writing notations thoughts reflections in her journal and i am filled with stillness she is really here and happy quietly unassuming as traffic on parkway pours by with a steady flow and she goes on radiant, content, perfect. -- douglas brent smith

  small wrinkles you get from sleeping on one side when you are young they fade away and later on they are here to stay. -- douglas brent smith

stealing's a way of life in the city if you've got it hold on someone else wants it and will take it looking or not you'll lose it classic redistribution of property (not Marx but marks) here and gone drug money means no limits no fear no more here here and hey robin hood you ain't, and neither am i rockefeller fella. -- douglas brent smith, May 1978 

seriously she said do you know that some people are so poor they have to watch black and white TV? as if evidence enough of suffering and i replied (later to the clown who stretched my hoops to balance the laughs) hell there are people who would  eat a black and white TV if they had one. -- douglas brent smith, 1978  

  we split totally quit                         took off took a cab went                         to lunch detours paramours (here no more)                         we're gone (so long) other places golden traces burned by the self-appointed authoritative church                         (who's church not mayan) snuck off cleared out no trumpets shout no plain fair                         (fairly drawn                         we're gone) take it, embrace it, grab your maze crazy whites tonight's our flight                         (alright a flash                         no  sight) cashed in, to the wind where we've been will not be where we'll be see? -- douglas brent smith

night visions deep flights dark nights lit thru flickers flights of flame refections of flowing and knowing the change futures far ahead revealing brisk touches from today this moment alive this moment here, grasping those finger tip stars like diamonds, long brilliant lasting longer long longed for here at  last. -- douglas brent smith  

"i saw your sister down at the Wayside cutting chances into glances like she was the original midnight dancer, understand?" "that may be true but she ain't been seen with you..." "my choice fella gotta whole lotta other  visions on my mind this rocky eve, if you know what i mean..." "no kidding, i'm skidding on outta here before those two a.m.  mayhem stratagems force their fire down my throat but catch this Mr. Bliss -- you keep your face away from my sister, mister..." "oh now, just ain't you too baaaaaaad?" -- douglas brent smith

a dramatist's conflict pivots in place when peace is achieved and there is no drama it is conflict to the form but! is this true? or only ego driven desire for more attention brought by the tension that drama brings with the world unresting drama keeps testing. -- douglas brent smith  

  the universal circle o ends where it begins o bends not breaking defined by the space inside equal in pressure and flow o to the space outside o laughing Buddha did know o sweet Jesus did know o nameless eternity do you know peace lives here o when you know. -- douglas brent smith

when i learn to leave judgment and criticism instead enjoying others and their differences delights when i learn to accept this place on earth assured as a happy one with a peaceful soul. -- douglas brent smith