we three smiles
rolling on the floor
bounce around the room and then
smile some more
we three smiles
making up new games
dance around the table laughing
at our names
we three smiles
hug and tug and grin
praise the Lord for living in
the world we're in.
-- douglas brent smith, 10 March 1987
i said to you
our shoes in the sand
your hand in my hand
in a trance of truth
i said to you
my best inner secrets
as the sun set
and a light breeze
caught your brown hair
remarkable
i said to you
touching your cheek with care
like a leaf
whispering what
i should have said
years ago
there is love that
may be delayed
but not denied
true then, true on that beach.
true still.
-- douglas brent smith
the left hand starts
a bass line avoiding
familiar notes, for accidentals
the right hand takes a ride
let me sing of your changes (andante)
swell...swell...who can tell?
let me glissando your joys (forte!)
and then mid-transposition
the two of us harmonize
and bring all the mystery
down to size,
-- douglas brent smith
white cloud blue sky sudden darkness
odor from a distant unknown source
bitter tasting, no permission
chemicals drifted in a virgin course
like a losing hand played to a devil's trick
for no reason half the town is sick
a stranger talking in a legal voice
bottled water is the only choice
dark days dry from a ruined well
twenty square miles of obnoxious smell
poison water makes a person think
tainted life line not a drop to drink.
-- douglas brent smith
i found you before
life left any dents before
the form found flaws and
with open wonderment alive and
ready for more
you found me ready
for new forms fresh foundation
sparks! light! early morning smiles
receiving all the giving and living
ready for more
every past piece of effort faded
as we created this new kind of kiss
tighter and sweeter and slightly awkward
youthfully extending our freely found
arms around gladness hey you hey you
we found each other ready
for each other
and did not let go.
-- douglas brent smith
he was cute and
younger than me but
not illegally younger
and wearing a tight
orange and purple
shirt that had written
across the chest
"are you gay?" and
he smiled and i thought
"isn't everyone?"
-- douglas brent smith
i saw it coming and started running
but it never seemed to stop
it flashed like a light in the middle of the night
and exploded with a loud piercing pop
the morning hit me and my shirt didn't fit me
and beer cans were bent at my feet
i walked to the kitchen someone started bitchin'
and led me back to the street
cars were passing and hustlers were hassling
every new face that strolled by
i jumped to the street dodging the heat
while my feet did their best to fly
like a circus clown in a strange dark town
i reached for your number and phoned
come save me from this with a smile and a kiss
it's too much to face all alone
you balked and you stalled and said why did you call?
you need to find someplace to stay
the high that sustained us was destined to fall
and the feelings have all flown away.
-- douglas brent smith
she shared some details
of the road trip with
the teen in a van
not too many intense
infraction type details
it was fill in the blanks
with too much thinking
heart wrenching imagination
like why would two people
in a van driving together
sharing inside secrets and
cheap road food not be
more than she said
playing a players game
of silence and selective
facts believable whether deceivable
or not who could know
she met a native american guide
entering the great grand canyon
already ahead of her hiking
below the entertainer chevy chase
working up his best sweat
"losing weight for a part," he told her
he seemed nice she told me
she, so sun tanned
deeply in pain
followed the guide's instructions
scaling the canyon, seeking and
finding her peace on her own
in shorts and a shirt
a weight loss plan of her own
for that burn in her heart
immune from her lotions
medicines and potions
yet falling away as she scaled
deeper to release the one-hundred-and-ninety
pounds of disappointment
the guide set her free
with a nod for the tip
and when she returned
freedom felt better than the pain
sending her away again
without the boy
without me
free.
when the motion
slips into another space
explanations defy attempts to reconcile
part of the magic lives in everything
that's ever been
and ever is
like a wave
all of our days are part of something
more complex than we can see
so the part of you in me
and me in you goes on
some of the energy conserved in all
that's ever drawn
from breath lives on
-- douglas brent smith
movements
from a stranger
blackouts
from the center of the soul
childlike prods
to an undiscovered corner
tripping, tipping
into a hole
movements
as the stranger
blackouts
from the cage of ourselves
liberating touches
on the edge of frenzy
seizing, freezing
short of the goal
where is the cutting edge?
one of us is bleeding.
-- douglas brent smith
selling out selling out
selling out is so much fun
you look at me and whisper
you look at her and run
look into the mirror
and tell me who's the one
selling out selling out
selling out is so much fun
you say all those decisions
are driving you insane
you've got a first level problem
and a third rate brain
selling out selling out
selling out is so much fun
the dollar signs are shining
right before your eyes
reach into the money bag
and pull out a surprise
selling out selling out
selling out is so much fun.
converging urges pull power
plays pull lost switches pull
shades thru the blades
hanging pendulously; sharp edges
dulled
fast focus
slowed
merging dervishes sing in the distance
youth grabs a number and
waits in line.
-- douglas brent smith
a mask or so ago
we felt the river flow
an endless rippling wave
eternal moments saved
within its ceaseless motion
the river meets the ocean
absorbed in all its glory
it learns another story
of larger issues when
the flowing never ends
a cycle set for spinning
eternally and winning
loud and rich and bold
producing newfound gold
a nudge a mighty mod
of prayer offered to God
(listen. when the answer
comes let's be ready
to write down exactly
what we hear...)
-- douglas brent smith
when it isn't enough to be weird
when it isn't enough to be funny
reality gathering speed
pleads for shelter and just enough money
when the middle class values scream what!
ever happened to all that we've got?
the air in the chamber starts moving
in sounds that the masses can hear
so the forces of wealth weave and hide
oblivious to working day pride
until with a shock wave a change
the power is all re-arranged
don't grab it or stab it, remain
the journey discovering new plains
the mountains are there for the climbing
and the essence is all in the timing.
-- douglas brent smith
in form not constant
higher planes
people versus civilization
drains
knowledge so much
wasted rain
seeping with the tide away
in visage not former
outer ken
struggles heaped on burdens when
awareness
flashes now and then
ghostlike disappearing
end.
-- douglas brent smith
are you looking for secrets?
shortcuts and delight?
perhaps someone's questions
whose answers are right?
is the sport in the victory
but not in defeat?
or does struggle with strength
in itself seem complete?
when the game hits conclusion
and one side has won
does your playing with passion
surrender to fun?
let's gather again
when the tournament ends.
-- 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:
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 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
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