douglas brent smith

  when it isn't enough to be weird when it isn't enough to be funny reality gathering speed pleads for shelter and just enough money when the middle class values scream what! ever happened to all that we've got? the air in the chamber starts moving in sounds that the masses can hear so the forces of wealth weave and hide oblivious to working day pride until with a shock wave a change the power is all re-arranged don't grab it or stab it, remain the journey discovering new plains the mountains are there for the climbing and the essence is all in the timing. -- douglas brent smith

  Pipe Saga - sketches by douglas brent smith

in form not constant higher planes people versus civilization drains knowledge so much wasted rain seeping with the tide away in visage not former outer ken struggles heaped on burdens when awareness flashes now and then ghostlike disappearing end. -- douglas brent smith

  Panel for Panel - sketches by douglas brent smith

are you looking for secrets? shortcuts and delight? perhaps someone's questions whose answers are right? is the sport in the victory but not in defeat? or does struggle with strength in itself seem complete? when the game hits conclusion and one side has won does your playing with passion surrender to fun? let's gather again when the tournament ends. -- douglas brent smith  

  One Small Corner of an Ocean - sketch by douglas brent smith

do you think the hoops'll play? no, we'd better go with fire they just eat it up when i swallow the flame bit but it's too windy we might set each other on fire (how's that for a big finish?) no, the balls, we'll do the juggling steals maybe some magic (slight of  hand) hey! did you bring the accordion? the guitars will never carry in this wind and yes it's cold but we're down to our last dollar and Quick! here comes some kids put on the big red shoes we are on! -- douglas brent smith NOTES: When Peter and I did these types of shows (not sure if this one was sponsored or if we were busking) our hair (yes, we once had hair!) was so long that catching on fire was a legitimate concern. At times, we could smell hair burning.  The hoops that we used were hand-made by Peter and covered in cloth tape. They were not completely round. If we had more money in our pockets then maybe we could have put fresh strings on our guitars so that they would resonate louder, even...

  Not Another of Those Things - sketch by douglas brent smith

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

  Nice Friendly Creatures, sketches by douglas brent smith

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

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 ...

 Making Tracks - sketch by douglas brent smith

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.  

  Enter Spring, sketch by douglas brent smith, 1979