Sketch: Cloud Posing as a Pipe, from journal #10, cry Wolf (1977) douglas brent smith
secret dreams
so what if
your hair style
is three years
ahead
of the trends
and you will
not regard fashion
because we are
above and
beyond all that
caught between
generations
and
secret dreams
"your mustache
tickles,"
she said.
-- doug smith
that shirt
soaring up here
on a colombian
vacation
looking up to
find you
straight ahead
looking down
eyes narrow
ears open
for sounds
lending a touch
of thin
but absolute
meaning
strong enough to
stand
wearing someone
else's
shirt.
douglas brent smith
Alaskan Pipe Line
Sketch: Alaskan Pipe Line, from journal #10, cry Wolf, 1977
Note:
My dad smoked a pipe for years. He favored two flavors of tobacco , one was Old Hickory and the other I do not remember. It's a filthy habit of course but I did enjoy the smell and he did seem so peaceful whenever he had a pipe in his mouth. It was no good for his teeth of course, which he lost and wore dentures for years but that was also probably because of the gallons of heavily sugared iced tea that he drank.
We all drank too much iced tea.
I haven't been to Alaska yet as of this date but it is one of only three states that I have not been to, the others being Hawaii and Montana. Funny, two of them were not states when I was born -- as I often say "that's how OLD I am..."
I did contemplate traveling to work the Alaskan pipe line -- the actual oil line and not the cartoon -- but correctly determined that it was all probably too rugged for me. Life certainly would have changed in a different path, even I'd even survived.
Any way -- that's my silly cartoon.
-- doug smith
a breath and a sigh
magic never mattered much
spells and incantations are
punchlines pounding air
barely worth a chuckle and
lately most of life stacks
a natural order and predictable
placid piecemeal wave
but
a breath and a sigh ago
in the warm night air
somewhere between the pause
of the sunset and
the promise of dawn
you touched me gently
recklessly upsetting all mystery
a promise no proper landing
dancing between knowing and
hiding in a never-land of
grins and giggles
shakes and surprises
dreams and desire
say,
maybe there is magic after all.
douglas brent smith
in need of a doctor
she held back her tears
as she told me the reason
she just could not hold me tonight
"i'm in need of a doctor
who does not ask questions
can you tell me a place to go?
and my body is trembling
from a night past remembering
and i don't want the family to know
"why does it happen it's my cross to bear?
i hear thru your silence -- you weren't even there
but i do need some help some how
"i know it's not unusual
it happens all the time
but it's so devastating
when the choice is mine..."
she refused to cry
as she ended the call
"i will find a way
to overcome it all..."
and never spoke of this again.
douglas brent smith
openers
universal bang it was a universal bang
it was a universal bang it was
a big bang
got to thinking about the nature of existance
and with a certain degree of persistence
i proceeded to untangle all the angles
that approach us
from the cosmic cloud encroaching us
all leading to the theory
that a weary sort of human
needs awakening acumen
to make sense of any reasoning
and weather all the seasoning
that's bound to blow right thru you
no matter what you do you
come up a little short and then
it slips right thru your hands again
it hasn't changed much to the aliens
deciding if we're enemies or friends
still hoping that we finally get the joke
universal bank it was a universal bang
it was a universal bang it was
a big bang.
douglas brent smith
Note:
from journal #10, cry Wolf (1977)
cry Wolf
here and gone and
here again the most
peculiar fleeing friend
you stay you go you
tell me so i know
it's sure it's what you name
it's all in how you play the game
but oh i wait here for your kiss
there's something that you should not miss:
cry wolf my
dear
and see what shows
the wolf
will
come
and i
will go.
douglas brent smith
Pie Out-Moded
Pie Out-Moded - sketch by douglas brent smith, from journal #10 cry Wolf (1977)
Note:
Another silly cartoon, drawn with a flair pen in a spiral bound notebook. That is a lot of ice cream.
breaking up
come to me
as the person you know as
the one who will go
softly in silence from you
slowly and close
feel the most we can offer
all of this flesh thru the mess of our parting
there. you see? the magic the warmth
still willingly there
all we have shared
has formed a bond
not to tie us or hold us captive
but to wrap our walk
thru this passage
peacefully gentle
compassionately free.
douglas brent smith
Note:
This is at least the third version of this poem. I'll never get it exactly right, just as I never figured out how to get breaking up exactly right. Much has changed since 1977 when the first bits of this poem appeared, and yet...much remains a mystery -- like the mystery of how does someone fall out of love?
To me it feels the same as if you said you'd decided to stop breathing. How do you do that?
Little Known Scientific Fallacies
Little Known Scientific Fallacies - from journal #10 cry Wolf (1977)
ashes
the only fire that inflames me now
crackles constantly your name
white hot and furious over the ashes
of your unwritten melody
and my unwanted soul
the only air flowing thru me now
tastes bitter and smoky
colored in resins i've never learned
in pigments past understanding
you say i may not see you now
though i still hear you when you sigh
you declare there's no love there
but ashes swept aside.
douglas brent smith
silence
i guess the postal service died
no other cause will do
it's been more than a month
since i've heard a word from you
the phone company has gone on strike
or else my phone is broken
it's been too long a time it seems
since your sweet voice has spoken
it could not be dark apathy
or mystery ignoring me
that would not do it's not like you
to leave me so neglected
and somehow soon it must be true
you'll treat me as expected
to sit alone by my dumb phone
reveals a hope gone rotten
and it's much worse to live the curse
of someone who's forgotten.
douglas brent smith
napkins and things
dorinda likes to doodle
daringly on napkins
unseen unnoticed by
the scramblers eating eggs
or sipping bitter coffee
sometimes she pops out a song
or sketches a summer scene
from somewhere no one's been
now here i am in Chicago
frozen to the bone
doodling on a napkin
and wishing i was home
but, lacking that i
send a pre-doodled napkin
to someone who appreciates
napkins and things.
douglas brent smith
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