House of Sand
for Reina A. Prado
i.
so that's how he'd gotten
into those high circles, sissying
how to get over
sell your body, sell your soul
no other way to hold an Oscar, an Obie
must embrace forbidden sex
a man in a man's arms, in a man's bed
having intercourse
the wrong way around
ii.
has he kept himself
for a moment like this
for a day like today
I asked, has he, as well, I ask, has she
along comes the time
for making love
iii
each relationship is a bond to test,
to tug at
lovers or siblings
or parents and children
pets and those who keep them
whatever attachment to tug at
see what it/what they could withstand
water, wind, time, will
pulling in different/
in opposite directions
iv.
what delicious things reunions are
v.
the ways to make love
other than sexually
are so many
endlessly, endlessly
these variations upon a theme
vi.
what do you want
in exchange for salt
only salt would do as a substitute
for salt in exchange for salt
he had to wait a long time
more than a decade
amid the shifting desert sands
reciprocity finally came
it was breathtaking
it was like a dream
worth the wait
every minute of it
every week, every day
it was worth the decade
what they got, what they gave
vii.
was Christ tacked up
like a notice upon a notice board
until taken down
until the event ended
in the stories
of his removal from the cross
though there is graphic detail
about nails being driven in
I recall no detail about them
being extracted, about the tacks
being taken out
he could not, like a notice
upon a notice board
having passed usefulness, useful date
been ripped off, ripped down
no word though
nor are there paintings or sculptures
of hammer, crowbar or whatever
wrenching nails from wood
from hands, from feet
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
12 a.m. 25.07.08
Clara Shu Cloth
had I been given that towel now
I'd know what to do with it exactly
handed it at her house or apartment
where she lived in Paris
at the end of our walk
I hadn't a clue what to do
what to wipe or where with it
wanted to avoid appearing foolish
succeeded in seeming insensitive
looked at wet wash rag
wondered why/wondering why
I'd been handed it/provided it
Chinese, she observed me carefully,
closely
I could see, could sense she was insulted
more insulted still
when I handed it back unused
unaware it was meant
to refresh myself with
cool myself off
to make use of it now
to make up for what I did not know then
and made little or no use of
with wash cloth, my own
all unbearable summer long
I wipe myself over and over, here and there
I savor the relief it brings
as well as these Paris memories
1989, 19 years ago
where, I wonder, is she now
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
2:14 a.m. 27.07.08
Symbols Collect
for Nickiesha Clarke
of truth afraid
fear I'd expose
what you expose me to
were you to open
or let me open your lap top
your lid open
wild upon keyboard
bring up on screen
forbidden images
use your mouse, run about
in and out of every crevice
mouse across piano keys
to serenade you
flowers on a rainy day
to brighten it, to uplift spirits
unlike Marlon Brando
“The Fugitive Kind”
I’m polite, kind
except when I'm cross
when I'm crossed
or double crossed
when I'm given sweets, delicious treats
when these are withdrawn
I can sulk then
complain, pout
you're not the kind of girl
nice one day, nasty the next
necking one day, next day
neck in a noose
must sing your song
hymn your praises
must worship you
even if already, I have religion, deity
the Holy Trinity
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
1:21 a.m. 24.07.08
Life Is Not A Dream
of L.M.M.
you have to live your life
you cannot keep it on a shelf
like shoes in a box
you have to box it out
it's going to end anyway
some people live or attempt to live
like dishes, like crystals and things
they keep in the china closet
like living room furniture
hardly anyone ever allowed
to sit or lounge in them
not even flies allowed
to alight upon them
life's designed to be lived
to be lived in, to be lived out
it runs out anyway
like water down the drain
when the stopper's out
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
8:18 a.m. 26.07.08
Over All The World
heaven must be one continuous rainy day
it's heaven on earth when it rains
thunder shaking the house I'm in
the earth and sky
rocking the world with its roar
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
6:30 a.m. 27.07.08
Words Between Us
for N.T-B.
poems, after writing them
must brush them like teeth
must floss them as well
all a part of the process of polishing
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
10:28 a.m. 24.07.08
Washed In Talent
of Greneka Rolle
as amazed at the size of her breasts
as I was at the exquisiteness of her gift
her singing, her song
though by clothes secured, revealed as well
how well endowed
wish I were Unique
how I'd have enjoyed seeing myself in the nude
in the bed room or showering
drying off or sleeping naked
to have her body I'd choose
over having a luxury yacht
on top of the gift of her body, she could sing
could move the listener, the audience
in whatever direction she wishes
in whatever direction the song goes
she can take me anywhere she wants
any way she wishes
any dish she served, I'd eat it, even lick the dishes
as if she were the Candy Man's daughter
or his sister
were she his wife, I'd run away with her
in whatever weather, across whatever seas
however rough, even if we ship wrecked
once we were together
I'd like to get to know her, intimately
or however
I'd like to see her, hear her sing again
even that would be a treat
the first time was inches from unbearable
how keenly I listened
watching her in song
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
6:31 p.m. 24.07.08
Time To Intertwine
for N.T-B.
unbearable several minutes
wanting pen, wanting paper
I'd just arrived, just inside the door
how adorable to look at, to be with
brown enough, enough brown to drown in
upper body, thick locks
wearing a pattern of brown
waist of it, of outfit
with sash, with bow to tie in front
just below her partially bare breasts
cleavage display, strands of her locks,
varied colors, one strand,
bright orange
outpoured my love for her
into a few minutes together
not wanting to be apart or tear apart
but she knows how to shun me
give me but so much, no more
together for a while though
those minutes just inside the door
evening of poetry about to commence
what a note to start with, to start on
how very near to undone was I
by her loveliness
how I love when we connect
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
3:59 a.m. 24.07.08
Angelique
want to entangle with you like vines
want to mix like two types of grapes
to make wine
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
9:49 p.m. 25.07.08
Glass Ice
for K.K.
I want to put your eyes in poems
antithetical to wanting to put your eyes out
I want to keep them open
I want to keep them lit
such eyes make me write, make me writer
as well as more correct
my eyes in your eyes, I see twice as far
enable me to see forever
right here, right now
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
7:55 p.m. 22.07.08
I Jealous Bad
for N.T-B.
what about all the boys
who are crazy about you
as in love with you as I
wanting to touch and to whisper
connect whatever way available
all of them suggesting
something's going on
I am as jealous as if I were your husband
when I am but one of the men
one of the boys, crazy about you
dizzy about you
wanting to sniff you, snort you like coke
to be high for life, forever
I want to drink you like coke
strip a straw of its paper over coat
shove it in
suck until a glass of you
was just the noise remaining
little or nothing left
to suck through straw
eyes all I have to consume you with
I examine you closely
feast for greedy eyes
ravenous eyes over you
I don't like one bit, when in every bite
must bite off, must bite into
some boy’s arm about you
or fingers touching you
or ear you're whispering into
I want boys to keep their distance from you
so I could swallow you whole
without swallowing them too
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
11:30 p.m. 23.07.08
Gourmet Moment
for M. Hanna
pork to poke my fork in
apple to sink my teeth in
apple pie to put ice cream on
scoop or two upon her bosom
cleavage, two mountains
go between, flow between
into her navel orange
poet with pen,
eager to chase this river
follow it wherever it runs
even to thy kingdom come
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
12:15 p.m. 23.07.08
Paige
a mystery to me, a lovely smiling face
instead of like a door, slammed shut
knock and knock or knock and leave
what was she inviting, I'd have to be polite
pretend, not to let on I'm mad
how mad I can be, how hungry
appetite is what makes birds fly away
another tree, outskirts of another city
afraid of sling shots or to be caged
what do girls fear
old age, ugly men, monsters, wolves
is she little red riding hood
circle of friends one won't want to leave
what would the neighbors say
my parents say
what would aunts and uncles say
siblings, friend
were I to associate with who
might not fit in comfortably
regular girl, regular world
so much invested in her already
put upon a path
what's expected for what has been
is being expended
unable, not free
to make your own choices
go your own way
follow your own groove
flow to go with, uphill to success
income to earn, place in society
perched upon a pedestal
unable or not free to jump down
what a dream it would be
to be friends with this beauty
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
1:01 a.m. 23.07.08
Doors Books Make
for Sonia Lunn
how near at hand
another world
our books are doors
are books not doors
even in prison
what else, where else
can you not get out of
in an instant
with a book to open
with hinges to swing on
I open and close books
the key, ability to read
can read, do read
can't read, can learn
can read, don't read
don't improve ability to
how near at hand
another world
our books are doors
our books our doors
are books not doors
able to open and shut
as if upon hinges
these are the hinges of this town
or of any town, of every town
upon which I live
I invite you to move in
to come and go at will
as you like, as you wish
door to a book, which is a book
open and shut
get in and go instantly
much much further than
you or I could go or could get
on a bus, in a car or on a flight
get in a book, can go
not just to places far away
but far away in time as well
what worlds the double doors
of books open up, open on
I'd have died
of claustrophobia long ago
died for lack of fresh air long ago
were it not for vistas, oxygen
books let in
because books are windows
as well as doors
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
7:08 p.m. 19.07.08
Available or Vulnerable
of Shan Brooks
i
rotation as she walks
what is incorrect about her
is at once what is perfection
the music it make, each step she takes
anesthetics for a tooth ache
makes this old, unbearable world bearable
easily so
what debts seeing her cancels
My Lord, my eyes open,
my heart, a door and she walks through it
out of what womb did she come into this world
who came into her mother
I appreciate their lovemaking
marriage bed or not
in bed or upon a car's back seat
ii
“I am standing here,
writing a poem about you!” I said
by some miracle, she and her female friend
passing back
got a chance to run to her, chat
collect her e-mail address
give away three books
and my heart as well
iii.
surreptitious observation
my usual modus operandi
somehow inconvenient
to assume such a mode
like happenings which cause
our jaws to drop
leave us with our mouths dropped open
in awe, unsophisticated
that sort of happening
just besides myself to see her
how her jeans fit
the way she walked in them
musical steps, her body shifting
side to side, how she swayed
without being able to help it
without meaning to be seductive
unaware of it, unaware she's being
her being unconscious of it
permits, causes me to be
to an extreme degree
were she engaged in it, deliberately
turned off, I'd not have given her
a second look
positioned myself upon the sidewalk
her friend and her, coming towards me
I wanting her to do me up, do me in
not to spare me a bit
of what was unbearable to watch
a thrill so deep
through me like mosquito, like honey bee
I was prepared to perish
if she went that deep
if she, like an arrow, went through me
came out the other end
she did, and that I'm still here, amazing to me
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
1:39 a.m. 20.07.08
Cookie Cutter Let In Light
for D.V.H.
moon shows up, throws up light
lovers inside its abdomen
the moon belches, burps
Pepto-Bismol for a moon
with a belly full of lovers
haters mixed in as well
well of light, I drop my bucket in
drop it down down down
draw it up again, full of moon light
full of moon beams for a dark night
for a dark world
moon lights days, moon lights nights
moonlit days, moonlit nights
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
6:42 p.m. 18.07.08
Chan Pratt
for Harold & the whole Bahamas
we'll all be gone soon or too soon
something or other,
death-planted, death's planted
to take us away, put us away
at times, snatch us away
though we seem alive and well
functioning while the iron's red
we're dying, passing away
not tomorrow, leaving today
the miracle for me is that I'm still here
54 and breathing, when, so many,
over time, in so many places
had so much less time
here on earth, sprung from it
heaven helping as it does plants, trees
as it assists in photosynthesis
we, similarly,
earth and light combined
but things fall apart, molecules disintegrate
strong force which bonds
no longer strong, become weak
disease, decay, first our teeth,
the foods we eat, then all else follows
all along, signs, indications that
we belong as much to death
as we do to life, from life began
instead of nibbling
death finally opens its mouth,
great big fish that it is
and closes it, and we're stiff
on our backs in a box
should the dead be kissed
or should we already have said our good byes
accumulating every time we part
whoever knows which kiss goodbye
will be our last
should death though, its inevitability
cause us to live differently
do excellent work as long as we last
because with every work, with every act
we wave farewell
should every act therefore
not be a just act
be about beauty and about truth
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
11:03 a.m. 18.07.08
An Evening Ends
for Helen Klonaris
i.
shitty shells in a chicken coop
what's inside them
what matters, what counts
come into my house, I tell you
chick inside the egg
heart inside the chick, beating
what lips have her lips kissed
vertical as well as horizontal ones
woman tongue, woman lips
women lives, women lies
women cry out when in love
while in bed, wild in bed
fox, dog, raccoon in a hen house
how they cackle, call,
what a racket they make
frighten rat away, dog away
panic makes panic
fear expressed frightens
shitty eggs, chicks inside
beginning to hatch
freshly laid eggs to crack
to make omelets
must wash the feces off first
my house outside
disguises what's within
like clothes I wear, shoes I wear
poverty stricken looking
so much wealth within
life force, life forces
which eventually crack into bits
a chick’s shell, a church bell
time for baptism, for name
for my life to commence
two pence for two eggs
a long time ago
ii.
what to take for madness sake
for crackness, cracked bell that I am
cracked mentally, just crack
what do I put in it, take for it
what to do to mend
is she home safe, my first concern
my mental state, mental health
I can deal with later
heart beat, foot steps,
thought process, I can align later
listen to Mozart, get some rest
been here many times
no need to be desperate
beautiful woman gave me a lift
on so many levels
I must wonder if she's home safe
is she home yet
I am unable to find my way home
after our chat
lost in the world, lost in the wilderness
in spite of address
what way did she go
what way did she turn
how many wrong turns did we take
in discourse
intercourse to add, possibly
when we next meet
or share guava nectar next time
sex time, anytime
for who have words to spare
words in need of repair
word mechanics, overalls, coveralls
ink-covered, to strip off
bareness, like banana peeled
to make the most of
will disappear in a few minutes
in a few bites
what about our differences
what's to be done with these
this evening, this summer
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
1:48 p.m. 06.07.08
To Become One
for S.R-S.
want a woman who would catch
when I pitch
what I pitch
as coordinated, as connected as this
not off elsewhere, eyes elsewhere
when the ball is being thrown
velocity surpassing speed of sound
approaching speed of light
not to be insulted, to be regarded
as a thing on the side, as a part time job
catcher with mitt, severely padded
has to be attentive
too worn out mitt
bound to feel the sting of the pitch
too quick for batter to see or to hit
my catcher and me though
as connected
as my brain and my big toe
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
4:11 p.m. 17.07.08
Staples Open
for N.T-B.
the actor's mask
is about to become his face
the poet's pen
is about to become his penis
who or what
are you going to turn into
will you turn over
when I turn the page
open like I open my book
when I need to rip out
the pages in the middle
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
9:28 p.m. 16.07.08
Once Upon A Guitar
for Kara Smith
what is she doing, going
guitar in hand, gripped by the neck
tipping off, exiting my heart
earrings round as Os, as moons
broad as ever so tiny rims
with us still, I’m thrilled
fills a chair as well as she could
little as she is, talent, singing
able to fill the soul, the room
able to lift the spirit
however heavy it is or was or gets
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
11:19 p.m. 16.07.08
Amoeba to Man
for Mateo Maxwell Holmes
a poem asleep
eyes shut in peace
confidently breathing
mama's near, she's been there
from the gun went off
from the hundred yard dash was run
and this runner, this winner
broke the tape
she's been there for him
cheering him on
though resting
though sleeping peacefully
what work it was to be born
to come into being
what somersaults
like a trapeze artist
upon an umbilical cord
like a forest of chimpanzees swinging
cheetahs chattering
though in his mother's arm
in quiet sleep, idea of a blank tablet
far from true, not true at all
history of what occurred in the womb
truth be told, story be told
could easily fill several hundred pages
yet at birth it's suggested
that we're starting from zero
when new life's linked
to when life began
however many millions
of months, weeks,
days ago that was
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
3:26 p.m. 15.07.08
At Play
With Words
for P.G-M.
pretty Patti
pitter-patter
across the roof
across the floor
frame fame
rain in frame
in frame in flames
flaming frames
framing flames
pretty Patti
pitter-patter
across the roof
across the floor
adore the dancer
with her slippers off
in slip she slips
across the wooden floor
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
11:35 a.m. 15.07.08
Armour or Amour
for Nevis Pratt
i.
how unpleasantly we wrestled
wanting to be so close
wanting to be air-tight
she insisting upon a gap between us
a wall of air
an arm about the waist
each extend an arm, hand-in-hand
regretting our not being
pressed together
forgot about electricity
of holding hands
palms as bare as bellies are
regarded what she offered
as hardly more than a handshake
wanted to be near her
to be nearer
wanted to get next to her
instead, between us,
The Great Wall of China
ii.
nothing's wrong
with being delicate
water's delicate
but it can drown you
air is also
look what happens though
when you're no longer
able to breathe
what is wrong with delicate
with an arm, with an embrace
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
9:30 p.m. 12.07.08
NE4
i. On The Cutting Block
just as a couple indoors
could be having intercourse
engaged in love making
no body passing or nearby aware
one could be killing the other
without anybody being aware
without anybody near
hearing one cry out
as the knife goes in and out
just as a cock in intercourse
goes in and out
how different the saps
the substances produced
when murder is compared
with making love
when these are contrasted
murder is so drastic, so final
a long sleep follows
and lament and comments
without end
ii. On The Cutting Edge
have I come into modernity
am I in modernity or way off
or elsewhere or who the hell knows where
gadgetry I am so out of touch with
nicknacks I don't know exist
wish I were able
to make more use of my computer
wish I knew all the shortcuts
how to make it run
when it instead chooses to shut down
like a horse I was unable to control,
make go where I wanted it to
as fast as I wanted it to
am I modern or antiquated
what of the world we're in
what of the people in it
adhesive tape to put a head back on
put sculpture together again
what of John The Baptist
what of John John The Barber
with his barber razor
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
9:05 p.m. 08.07.08
Ecstasy City
I have you all the time
but not actually, not as she does
to eat and to drink
to drain and to drip, cream to sip
I've had you, you've had me
had me hard, almost exclusively
far more than ten years
somehow so satisfied
in bed alone,
no one allowed between us
to make me stiff
to keep me like this
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
10:54 a.m. 18.06.08
Among Rose Petals
into words,
what you make me feel
into words, what you do to me
Brandy between us
along with stiff cock
in heaven dancing
heavenly angels upon wings
sublime and profane they'd say
of what we'd share
of what we used to share
these memories ever since sustain me
our affair, love affair
our trinity, Brandy, you and me
difficult to surpass
I play this record over and over
revisit this place again and again
sweetest spot in creation
peasy crotch, peasy patch
my cock up against it, nestled in it
erect as it could get
dancing, going round
naked in my arms, naked in your arms
our sweaty bellies, your sweaty bubbies
you singing along
Brandy Days
intoxicated as bees
up to their necks in nectar
emerging from
among rose petals
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
8:24 a.m. 31.06.08
Cup of Petals
for E.M.J.
almost painful
her loveliness, to encounter, to enter
penetrates me, it pierces
arms about each other
her perfume in my senses
delightful surprise
as subtle as a rose cup
of petals to drink from
to drunk bees
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
11:21 a.m. 18.06.08
Air We Breathe
for Erica James
take my breath
now she could
recently she did
gave it back, she's kind
she let me live
lets me look
does not obstruct
has she been an artist's model
class of artists
etching, sketching,
brush stroking as she reads
Melville's Moby Dick
subject lit by candle flame
by candle light
to suggest a time gone by
to suggest long ago
subject to undress and to address
until fixed as if alive
breathing, heaving,
sighing on canvas, on paper
real, she exists upon
the air we breathe, I breathe
dress between us like drape
with two hands to pull across, aside
to let in daylight
when already, with her dress on
I can hardly breathe
imagining the curves, the gullies
the alleyways
she giggles, eases the ache
deep ache of imagination
able easily to pass through cloth
carry a cross or her, bare,
to wonderland
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
1:30 p.m. 12.07.08
Judy
what was it for,
the book she opened
as thighs might open
inviting access
spelling acceptance
touching something
deep inside her
deep inside me
simultaneously
how deep
what we could touch
what we could reach
if allowed, if invited
however secretively
however large
the crowd about us
around us
my eyes all over her
her eyes all over me
mutual violation
mutually appreciated
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
11:54 p.m. 10.07.08
Fuss of Life
for Nevis Pratt
so many stories hidden
in a woman’s anatomy
within the hips of women
rings similar to rings
within trunks of trees
all seasons accounted for
all seasons register
ups and downs
waves of the sea
peaks and troughs
rocks waves splash against
what we pass through
pass through us too
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
3:29 p.m. 10.07.08
A Door Opens
for Nevis Pratt
i.
flaw weighed in against adorable
and was outdone, over shadowed
the balance of these
and I accepted that
I was witnessing beauty
beholding a charming woman
able to bear the weight
of investigation
deserving examination, scrutiny
not at all someone
we’d not look twice at
someone to look at again and again
and not tire
not one to look twice at
and be bored stiff
ii.
garden of flowers to sniff and sniff
until asked to leave
because the grounds were closing
chain around the gate
to lock the petals, the fragrances in
the public out
let them rest, replenish
retain freshness, splendor
I could pick the garden lock
to see her again
even if it’s dark
and all I can do is sniff about
until the sun came up
until dew-wet petals opened
like palms in prayer
in supplication to God and sky
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
12:56 a.m. 11.07.08
Olive Off A Tree
for Eyotaru Olive
spoiled by the Gospels
into believing in miracles
into expecting them
these and parables
signs that Jesus once existed, actually
and that he is still somewhere about
I like what faith alone can reveal
can make come into being
I thought you were a picture
a place far away
if you existed that you existed
entirely upon another plane
that we are connected
have made contact
even by e-mail is unbelievable
is what is miracle to my mind
I ate a dilly, went back to bed
now I'm feeling a bit unwell
it's Independence Day today
in The Bahamas, July tenth
someone's coming by at 1 p.m.
a date, a day out
I must shift into gear
must ready myself
but what a treat this is
to have connected with Africa
with a photograph
from an online newspaper
earth beneath your feet
in that photograph
yellow-gold of Sahara sands
something about it all
pulled strings
I could not help but sing
even as I am doing now
dreaming up, storying up
stumbling over words, phrases
stuttering, trying to explain
that dilly I ate, bothering me
have I time sufficient
to make myself well
wish I were as well as when
was I ever well
life is as wonderful
as it has ever been
a miracle as profound at present
as when I was conceived
or March 30th when I was born
or that spring, 1976
when I was in love
with Maya Fisher
or when she went away
melted away
dissolved like the sun does
at the end of every single day
extinguished in the sea
for night to come on
to over come me
like a chick in an egg
like a womb lit by warmth alone
darkness which is said
to pervade Africa
in some figurative sense
in some insulting context
darkness I have always sought
since I had sense
wanting to bathe
and to clothe myself in it
if not actually, in its mystery
I've always loved nightfall
I like having to pick it up
it lifts me also
up to the moon and stars
what are you doing on the planet
or are you an olive off a tree
are olives common in your country
or do they only grow in Greece
or in holy scripture
or in the holy land
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
12:20 p.m. 10.07.08
Neighbourhood Girl
it’s the girl from yesterday
in what she wore yesterday
in what she took my breath away
an assortment of pens to capture her with
to cap and uncap
until I have a hold of her
until she’s in my grip
as securely, as hopelessly
as I am in her grip
her hold upon me
is achieved without effort
without her being at all aware
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
7:05 p.m. 08.07.08
Twice
Through
My Window
i.
does she have license
to look like that
to dress like that
purple, too-tight top
jeans too tight
as well as too short
ii.
how different, how vacant
the street looks
after she's gone in
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
7:49 p.m. 07.07.08
Saiz
Oh, Leslie, I have your voice as if in a jar, like butterfly or gold fish - like some insect or some fish to look at - to watch swim about or flap about whenever I wish.
I have your voice to listen to, to look at, to savor whenever I wish.
I have your voice in a dish - like Jell-O, like ice cream, like TCBY.
I can eat it with dessert spoon, my tears falling in it, added to it, because, though hearing from you is a drop of rain, I want to be drenched in the rain, caught without umbrella, without cab to get home, you falling on me - on everything, over everywhere.
Remember you and me and Reina, in Havana, chatting, walking together, Stephen and who else was it, who all else, after dinner, somewhere way behind?
Did the rain not begin to fall? How warm your eyes were. How warmed was I always when you smiled.
Habana Libre, like a great big woman for me to run to away from you. In what direction was happiness? How torn I was, like paper - on it, a poem life itself was writing, wrestling to get right.
I am a little boy, this assignment in a book for you to mark.
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
4:55 p.m. 07.07.08
Places To Go
for B.J.
woman in black dress
warm woman, woman to caress
artist like the rest of us
we look shabby, she looks like success
looks like income
most of us, receiving none
envy not
symbol of where we can go
what we too can be
we too can grow
woman in a black dress
elegant as could be
so very happy
I feel fabulous just to see her
embrace her, I 'm wealthy
happy beyond words
imagine me with her to hold
with her to hold old me
new spirit, new voice, our verse
one spring
her voice tied to
Billy Holiday, Ma Rainy
Bessie Smith, Nina Simone
Roberta Flack, Gladys Knight
the Pips
body for fame, flame burns in fame
she has a history, she’s tied to it
trial by fire, she’s been through it,
young as she is, going through it
not being harmed
Abednego and his brothers
are her brothers too
able to relate to her
art speaks one language
one tongue between them
to tell their story
her black dress hanging
while we got acquainted
got sweaty, showered
took vacation on mars,
in Milan, in Madrid, on Long Island
is she a Cat Island gal
or a girl from South Andros,
catcher of crabs
with net in her back yard
to gather in bone fish
in schools from the flats
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2007
4:08 a.m. 06.09.07
I Get Calls Too
my pen is such a noisy instrument
so full of voices, so full of verses
my pen is so unlike a cell phone
unlike a phone call
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
6:15 p.m. 05.07.08
All for Knees
for H.K.
forever worshiping
without end praying
a damaged needle or damaged grooves
keeping us or keeping us from advancing
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
10:40 a.m. 06.07.08
Up Even if Upside-down
of J.M.
she’s going to screw her way
like a bulb
into the ceiling of things
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
10 p.m. 06.06.08
Rest In Peace or Get Up and Go
for Ned L. Siegel
I need to change my posture sometimes
without end sitting and writing,
sitting and reading
must get on the bus, must get up and go,
must get up and move
in bed occasionally, must have intercourse
must sit at a table, dinner and discourse
must get on a flight, must travel to new lands
though I am so lazy, must go on the beach
must walk in the sand, swim in the sea
all the strokes I learned in swimming classes
at Memphis State to try out
how lazy and timid I am these days, to climb trees
I was fearless in my youth
up a dilly tree, up a guinep tree, up a coconut tree
timid me, sit and write, sit and read
unlike a soldier, off to war
crawling and firing, killing and dying
or flying over, dropping bombs
upon cockroaches and ants and rats and people
maybe I should bungee jump or roller coaster ride
or roller skate or fall in love
I've lost my appetite, my appreciation for life
once I used to be young, I was in love once,
a white girl and I, in racist Memphis
where M. L. King was killed
like Castro or Che,
I regret not ever having started a revolution
regret not ever having engaged in guerrilla warfare
sitting and writing, sitting and reading
Hemingway stood when he wrote
stood and wrote, stood and typed
Old Man and the Sea in the Finca Vigia
not only did he read and write
he went fishing, went to bull fights
went hunting in Africa, and he went to war
I need to change my posture
how weary I am of sitting and writing,
sitting and reading
I have a dilly tree to climb, a yard to clean
my whole big house to make immaculate
other muscles to activate, other things to add
to eating and sleeping, defecating and reading,
writing and worrying
about where the next several hundred dollars
will come from
how I love when it rains, how it relaxes me,
comforts me
when I'm dead, I wonder, how will it feel,
how will it be, in a grave asleep,
arms across my chest, big smile on my face
© Obediah Michael Smith, 2008
1:18 p.m. 05.07.08
