over cards
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
Go Deeper
Being absolutely sure of something means I've only explored one side.
No only is our individual perspective imperfect, it is also incomplete.
Go deeper -- that's where the treasure lives.
-- doug smith
ocean walk
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
intermittant
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.
tone for the dance
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
like glue
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
mist or sleep
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
acceptance of collage land
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
Pillows to Soften the Blow
Pillows to Soften the Blow - collage by douglas brent smith, from the journal The Yellow Ages, 1978
Notes:
Have you ever been knocked unconscious? I was once during a pillow fight. How is that even possible? Trust me, it is. Or, at least I blacked-out momentarily. I was here, and then I wasn't, and I can almost still see that goose down pillow headed for my face. It wasn't horrible. It was different. I would not recommend it and I would not do it again. All I could think at the time was "thank goodness that I didn't break my glasses."
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