A Safe Bet, sketch by douglas brent smith, from journal #10 cry Wolf (1977).
I was not much of a cartoonist, but that didn't stop me from occasionally trying. The joke here is basic and obvious and probably just came out of idle doodling.
what Jane needs
what Jane needs to paint
fuel from foolish adventures
folly from feeling
alive
swirling her flashy flesh filled shape
as metaphors
a warm blanket
around her naked frame
what Jane needs lately to feel
hip in her new age
is company, coolness shared
some touchable one
who cares what she paints
more than about
what's under her blanket.
douglas brent smith
A Slightly Sinister Creature
Sketch: A Slightly Sinister Creature - from journal #10 cry Wolf (1977).
angel fall
Once an angel
fell
from her warm but insecure
perch in an artificial sky
damaged and breathless
afraid and in tears
i ran to her soft side
more than anxious to
help her to heal her
and hear her words of love
mending her wings and
sealing her strength
hoping she'd fly over worlds
that were also mine
and love me for something
that angels don't have
but...once healed
on the wing
she took flight from my sight
not willing to waste
her freedom on fools
so i wait with tears streaming
waiting and dreaming
and hoping that when
that angel falls again
she remembers these steady hands.
douglas brent smith
Five Sketches in Search of a Hat
Five Sketches in Search of a Hat - from journal #10: cry wolf (1977)
typewriter
i left my typewriter in new jersey
as if some bloodied murder weapon
trying to hide the crimes
or forget the posturing
of the scene of all my passion
and pathos
for these seven quite odd years
where manhood came
and with it the twisting
torture of passion's pain
distressed and then daring
darling and then distressing
messing with alternatives
though the people traded places
sliding parade-like suddenly
my massive wooden desk i
called the aircraft carrier (covered
with unfinished scripts, snatches of poems,
and doctors' bills)
half my soul (it seems) was
spilled poured and splattered
into these gold, black, red walls
onto the dusty floor filled with
cat hair, beard hair, auburn hair
too precious to sweep away
no, it was not a castle
or a page from Architecture Digest
but it gave me all I ever needed
to become an artist
they say we become completely new
every seven years
we'll see i suppose we will see
i left my typewriter in new jersey
i guess i'll need to return for it.
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
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