Actor at Large - sketch from jounal 9: Midwest Blue by douglas brent smith
erase, delete, purge
embarrassing errors boggle and
jog clumsily a spell mispelled
an assertion averted a
bumbling humbling remark
all those things
we were all those
things bringing confidence to
a dance without knowing
any of the steps i
of course stepped continually on
toes not my own
breaking light into frozen
patches not fixable fixed
in a moment exposed
so sorry so sorry so sorry
you told me that insecurity is
often expressed as bravado and
of course you were correct
you don't have to forgive me but
what if you did?
-- douglas brent smith
Secret Recipes
Secret Recipes - sketch by douglas brent smith, from Journal #9, Midwest Blue (1976-1977)
prevention
i heard somebody mumble
that we live inside a jungle
and if we're not judicious
may meet someone malicious
cold lurking on the prowl
intent on business foul
disaster faster than we care to know
but if we're extra wary
about such terrors scary
our awareness could prepare us
for phenomena that scare us
and with targeted intention
succeed with its prevention
escape that shapes a better freedom flow.
douglas brent smith
Nude Behind a Tree
Nude Behind a Tree, sketch from Journal #9, Midwest Blue (1976-1977)-- douglas brent smith
coffee table
ashes, roaches, tweezers, matches
our hands a foot apart
not touching until
you pass the heavy book of
Picasso paintings
tapping the cover telling me
without telling me
the days grow shorter
a candle burns slowly
security in its perch
atop the bottle of cheap wine
(a pair of feline eyes stare
through the glass top sharing
perfect secrets knowing what is real)
"who believes in love anymore?" you
say, a provocation? an invitation?
"maybe," i reply, "maybe!"
if it is you
who is of
love and secrets perfected by scars
but!
you feel untouchable heavier than
this table carrying
questions that burn, that smoke
that penetrate us, but
why?
i'm alive enough to know i'm
near you
not near enough to you to
know i'm alive
douglas brent smith
Tom
the words you want
most to write
never come
until
they (you can't find them) find you
unprepared: unaware
and they laugh fast and run
the people who all mean the most
you take for granted
as their memories become
lingering ghosts
of lines you never chanted
songs you never sang
but i refuse to let that slide
because it boldly matters
and honestly, without you
i'd be forever sadder
douglas brent smith
Filling the spaces
Filling the spaces, sketch by douglas brent smith, 1976
The doodle sketches of a busy time, from Journal#9, Midwest Blue, 1976-1977. Letting go, moving on, trying on Chicago for size, while also re-inventing in New Jersey. The notes on this page span a wide amount of time with notes for plays in Chicago and rehearsal with -- DD -- in NJ and a Polaroid picture of Annie herself, standing outside 2065 Pennington Road. Not sure that any of this is noteworthy much less art worthy but here it is anyway. History.
you should have never
you should have never set me free
for now i'm flying recklessly
and weave new roads from symetry
a tangled dark geometry
you should have never sewn me wings
for i have stolen sacred things
and crossed the paths of clumsy kings
who yield their crowns to hear me sing
you must have known that i was wild
a reckless feckless freckled child
when tossed among the ranks and files
of royalty and scarlet styles
you should have never set me free
for i have bargained honesty
and released all modesty
consuming generosity
douglas brent smith
She Didn't Believe It
i tried to tell her hell i
try to tell all of them
but she didn't believe it
when i said to expect
the unexpected
and to deal with
puzzling deals nothing
to be dealt with normally
there being nothing normal there
so i should not be held responsible
naturally
for twisting a phrase,
opening the horizon
or breaking her heart
i tried to tell her that
might happen but
she didn't believe it but
being pro-active and smarter than me
broke mine first
douglas brent smith
on and on again
when the page turn
burns
the writer's hand
a grimace grows
surfacing the strands
of captured particles too bland
to turn the twisted
trip again
as the sunlight
fights
against the night
the struggle of
forgotten sights
resumes its earnest empty plight
even when the product's
trite
it falls apart and leaves a scar
while forgetting who you are.
douglas brent smith
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