sketch: Pipe Organ (More of the Pipe Saga), by douglas brent smith
During the period of time when I occasionally drew an addition to the Pipe Saga, my dad smoked a pipe. He had sense to quit later, but while he did the smell was wonderful. The pipes I drew were humorous and with a nod to the surrealists, especially Magritte who was at the time perhaps my favorite artist.
On a more fantastical note, I really would like to play that pipe organ, wouldn't you?
(pretty little almond eyes
sleeping next to me
breathing such sweet loving sighs
questionless and free
pretty little almond eyes
snuggle close to me)
with unexpected joy i find you with
your welcoming radiance
a once illusive happiness
floods into my soul
reckless and free
a thousand wild laughing tingles
glowing from the flow
of days with you
and nights with you
and secrets we both know
(high brown eyes
h.b.e.
waking next to me
whispering about your dreams
such sweet certainty
pretty little almond eyes
share this world with me.)
-- douglas brent smith
Analysis Training Sketch with Stars, from journal #12, Never Doubt (1978).
sunlight shimmers in
her eyes her
breasts dance with
each tiny breath
whispering
my name
-- doug smith
It was a lean time, surviving on peanut butter, pasta, and soup and enjoying the freedom that a wide-open schedule provided where even at work I could draw, write, compose. Ah, but I was young and my sense of humor perhaps more crude than good and cartoons like this resulted.
It's silly, but there it is.
if you catch me
counting stars
some night
when i should be
gazing into your eyes
or if a tear drop
forms when we
should be
celebrating
chalk it up
to mystery
or a muse chasing
escaping vibrations
but never blame your
self and never doubt
our love.
-- douglas brent smith
I remember as a child being fascinating by the concept of Figures in text books. Illustrations were often labeled Figure 1, Figure 2, etc. I wondered, "why don't they just print the title of the picture?" but never found out.
In fun and tribute, I named this doodle Figure 1. It appears in journal #12, never doubt, 1978.
someone found sparkly yellow
stuff, indifferent deep in the ground
wet in pebbles too thick to drink
too heavy for wheels
small quantities scattered
"let's make it money"
they said "because it's so pretty..."
now everybody wants what was
in fort knox as if
every heavy clunk of gold
held a genie inside
with three wishes for riches
and what do you
do with them
but
wish for more gold
-- douglas brent smith
can you still feel my cords? she
said often after the heat had subsided
and we were nearing sleep
at first i said yes, even though
i had no idea where they were
or if they still were
but like so many other lessons
from you i learned
after learning every square lovely
inch of your warm body
where your chords were
cords
there were other chords, also: lines
from your soul to mine
gullible at your will
veins
mixing sunbursts with rain
notes from my guitar, chords
calling your name
after long walks with puppy dog
after altercations over where
each or both of us would live (tell me)
can you still feel my chords
a thousand miles away?
-- douglas brent smith
Of course when the phones got dirty, we just hosed them down.
-- doug smith
don't tense up on me now,
all of my cards are marked
scarred from handling bent
at the edges
i'm playing several suits at once
none a perfect fit
no aces up my sleeve
don't quit don't leave
read them and grieve
i'm weary of your silence
duplicity dulling our electricity
whispers like screaming
read your hand plead your hand
bid or pass i'm faster than you think
holding my queen of hearts
with a secret message
better play your hand and hurry
now
before the queen finds her jack
and there's no turning back.
-- douglas brent smith
