What to Gather Round
for all the members of my family

hard climb every day
just to get on my feet
just to stay on my feet

hard swim everyday just to stay afloat

it is not easy
this attempt at a writer’s life
in these times, in this place
in this too small population

often do not get
to get together with family

family members, too few
show support financially
or with presence or with interest

I thank God for support
from family I do get, I do have

is my absenting myself tit-for-tat
attempt to pay back

it might be some of that
ignoring who ignores me

this poem surprisingly, surprising me
brings this to attention

poetry bares, seeks truth
finds truth, achieves it, achieves beauty

bare myself, my heart for myself,
for my family I love and miss

I hope we are together soon
I am so hungry for family chatter
for all the things to eat, to drink

salads, desserts, main course
covered plates to take home

my right thumb hurts, throbs
I am uncertain why


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
12:34 a.m. 19.12.09

27 Months
for Angelica M. S. Garcia

what is she up to for Christmas
up to or down to or up with

maracas she makes and takes about
a bunch or two

strings through handles
strung over an arm
others over other arm

strong to carry these all day
from day to day, around Granada
around down town

with her family makes them
brings them down from hills
they live high among

these shapes like globes
these glob-like shapes
shake and make music

what seeds, what beads are trapped inside
inside her, until released recently,
a baby boy

nine months pregnant,
nine months old when mother and I met
nine months ago

what has she given him
what does she have for him
in addition to breast milk

with which, when we had tea
her T-shirt was wet

at the table where we sat
in that coffee shop, several times
she folded her arms and squeezed
to ease the pain two breasts too full caused

is it for relief as well
that I squeeze poems out
springing in me similarly like well water

is she well, is her son well
what presents had they this Christmas
I myself have one to open, I'd forgotten

God remember them
when Christmas comes and when it goes
do not leave us, do not leave them

something to make to trade for money
air and light and life
thank God, are free

at times light and at times heavy


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
12:49 p.m. 27.12.09

Puppy Dog Tales
for T.L.C.

oh God Girl
oh gorgeous girl
Girl God gave me to love

how yur get so
how we get close

clothes on or closed off
seen her 3 or 4 times
in my entire life

how many more times
before I see my maker
I wonder

loving her and dying
loving her to ease the pain

her pussy to eat if she'd let me
to feast on, to bury my face in
before I am dead and buried

eat her until she could write poetry
as well as Nicolette
as well as Asha
as well as Marion

want to make her a giant
if I'm able

want her to be one
however it came about

hand in it
tongue in her pussy

make her cry ow, cry out
make her make verse
of tears of joy flowing
of pussy juices flowing

I have ink, blue or black
her pussy inside
pink and dripping wet

it's meat and drink
it's bread and wine

where two legs meet
where two legs part

she and I, by some miracle
joined

in love with her
night I first set eyes upon her

a poet's journey commencing
her first bold step


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
3:23 a.m. 27.12.09

Santa Came Down the Chimney
for M.S. & A.P.

i.
when going is a stronger habit than not going
it is more difficult not to go than to go

when going is a muscle, worked on, worked out
going is effortless, is natural

just as after years and years of respiration
of perspiration, it is easier to breathe than not to

easier to work up a sweat than not to

ii.
some of these songs, these hymns for Christmas
so much like stale decorations
packed up, put away over head
taken out again, from December to December

like regurgitated turkey, stuffing, ham
same turkey meat from birth until you die

what if breathing was the same air, in and out
over and over or the same water we drank
peed out and drank again

composers, poets to produce new hymns
without end required, this desired

or do we remain stuck with what the British left

fresh fish for boil fish and
an uncut pan of Johnny cake

iii.
am I the agent of spoil oh, Lord
or am I, though I think destruction, a victim

acted upon by some evil, in need of rescuing

as much in need of protection
as those I imagine evil- imagine hurt happening to

I do not understand why I’d imagine
who is vulnerable, cultivated, spoiled

beautiful women I’d think to hit, to strike, to assault
alter myself or imagine harm being visited upon

upsetting because such thoughts divide me
not my wishes, not my thoughts

I’d think them,
unable to help thoughts entering my head

like things living, things dead
which end up in a spider’s web

mind, ocean that it is,
every manner of fish wandering through it

iv.
words to sell instead of peanuts
words are my peanuts to shell and to sell
these I must rely upon to keep me

Rasta with peanuts on hand to sell
on his back to sell, on bicycle to sell

jump on the bus, jump back off
with peanuts like a bundle on his back
for who will buy

who will buy will keep Rasta alive
who will buy keeps me alive, happy to be

I have words sent from who knows where,
by God only knows, to earn a living with,
to earn a living by

v.
my thought was that church would be so packed
there’d be no place to rest my backpack

thought I’d have had to place it upon my lap

I have a pew all to myself, others are completely empty

though not full of people, St. Margaret’s Church
is full of joy

Christmas 2009 to celebrate
with contrite hearts, with contrite souls

vi.
wet shoes yet I am here
sand in them, dirt in them

though my socks are wet,
I went through rain, here nonetheless

encounter a friend amid the service
told to behave, not to be carried away

knows she inspires me to be, to lose control

seeing her on Christmas morning
how could I help but bubble over, boil

sing like kettle, steam escaping swiftly
similarly transformed, water into white steam

love-crazy, someone I can love crazily

she is married, she is happy
makes me happy too, happy still


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
Written between 10:55 p.m.,
Thursday, December 24th
and 12:30 a.m. Friday,
December 25th 2009

In & Out Our Lives
for Alexander Rizenko‎‎

i.
I drink her with my eyes
drink her right down

I empty the glass she’s in
I quench my thirst

descends the stairs
befriends the stairs

like Duchamp’s nude

ii.
she complains when I’m with her
at how I’d look at who’d pass by

about the women I’d observe
habit I’d have formed when alone
which is usually

with me one day or one evening
for one little while

and I must act
as if she were available to me
with me always

as if I had her to rely upon
or will have

when she is but in and out
and will in no time be gone

habit established to rely upon
to sustain me

resented, resent it, objects to it

to what is there for me
is air to me, near to me

when she isn’t, when she is not


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
3:15 p.m. 10.12.09

White Cologne
for Laura Goebelsmann

cold day in Cologne, outside my window
sunny but chilly

man in black, his hands in his pockets
going where he's going

his shadow is a minute hand
he, an hour hand

my pen in another hand, a second hand
seascape or snow scene, harbor without ships

across the water, construction site, cranes in the air
the engineers, the builders, off the building, off today

what time of day, what day of the week

this second extracted
like a deck of cards with this one missing

all of creation, however much it weighs
passed on in tact

from split second to split second
without splitting like an atom


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
2:56 p.m. 20.12.09

Fruit to Peel and Eat
for M.S.

tissue-thin, tissue paper
strand of hair, strand of rain
want to tell what I am unable to whisper
what poetry permits or does it

forbidden fruit to peel and eat
how long I've not had one

over the wall into the garden again
pop one off, off to hide
to feast between your legs
wet between your legs
lick between your legs
come between your legs

shuddering you and I
while it rained
lightning flashing, thunder growling
wolves howling

what noises would you make
if I ate your supper
if I ate you slowly
if I fucked you well

fucked until all was well
we relieved

what song would you write then
sing then

miss you up against me
naked, laughing, belly vibrating
enjoyable earthquake

what a love this is
what waves lapping the shore

would you want to be the warm sandy beach
or the rough waves splashing


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
2:30 a.m. 12.12.09

In A Photograph
for D.B.A.

what a moment to have arrived at
to have entered, to be contained in

so this is joy in a jar, genie in a bottle
rub it, would you exit, enter my world

wish the world was like this
wish I were able- wish we were able
to keep things like this

this is what pretty is
this is the taste of honey
the nectar bees collect

what set of notes is this
what divine composition

you are like music selected
by Horowitz to play in Russia
when he returned after 60 years

Scarlatti Sonata in E, K.135,
these notes upon piano

girl like you must have inspired
Beethoven's Für Elise

what will I call this song I've sung
this song of songs

bananaquit in banana tree
quetzal with long tail

I could put a kite up
let it out, let it fly

I could write your name upon it
hoist it high in the sky


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
3:20 p.m. 08.12.09

Prize or Surprise
for Ian McDonald

for an explosion of recognition
I must ready myself

it is coming like a hurricane

must I like birds, like fishes
know where in air
or where underwater to hide

or should I, like song birds
sing to the top of my lungs

should I like dolphins
be jumping up and down

I know I must brace myself
for what is coming my way
for what I have prayed almost all my days

I feel my powers join
other forces out there
it is like nothing I've ever known

I feel the rivers my pen makes
join other rivers

like trickling tributaries, into a mighty flow

is it gonna flow or is it gonna blow
something massive is occurring
or is about to

I sense myself about to be recognized
around the world, around the globe

spoken of on CNN, mentioned in the TIMES
or appearing on Oprah Winfrey

none of these would surprise me

things are beginning to shape up
to take shape, to take place

I am beginning to go places
beginning to be somebody

my pen is my sword, my racket
it is as well, the cross I carry

I have for years
been unable to put it down

instead of weighing me down
it bears me up

my cross eventually will be
a feather in my cap


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
10:16 p.m. 08.12.09

Fruit Basket
for D.A.

great big juicy custard apples
our neighbor use to grow

since I can't have you
I can use one of them now
even at this late hour

to bury my face in, soil hands, clothes
everything, everywhere

desire to convey to you
how mad I am about you

how wild I long to get
I could get, were you available
if you were near

girl, I could rip and toss and fling
until you were bare

covered in no more than hair,
here and there

grass before the door
to close it or to attempt to

what is hair there for

there are those who think it's elegant
to leave hair growing
upon the head alone
every other strand remove

I want you the way nature wants you

you should see my shoes
burs up, burs open or bursting open
I need a new pair

unlike a relative I know, a relative of mine
who has so many pairs of shoes
she's nick named herself as if to brag of it

I have just one, one that's on the way out
I want you to weigh in
I want us to wrestle


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
1:33 a.m. 07.12.09

Someone to Do It With
for Nicolette, Margot, Rachael,
Erin, Jonathan, Bryan and Leah

i.
under the weather this week

the week will come when I’ll be
when we’ll be,
under the earth, unable to get out
unable to get up

under the weather,
I can, in time, be up and about again
on my feet again

we can, afterwards
get together again

ii.
if cut eye cudda cut
I’d be in as many pieces
as beets, tomatoes, carrots

I’d be in bits and pieces
for soup or supper

cut in pieces, cut to pieces
if cut eye cudda cut

iii.
she is incongruous with here

is contempt too strong a term
for what I sense she thinks, she feels
about this place, situation
her affair with her lover has landed her in

wants to be/has to be here as well as elsewhere

situation does not produce, provide
fulfillment

must seek it in books to read
in yearning to get abroad
to further her education

these local standards not her standards
cannot afford to be trapped over-the-hill
or too near to it

aggressive about getting away
with books to read
or laboring away
on her lap top

iv.
10 ties into/in two positions

are there ties actually inside
what has been Junkanoo pasted

pretty paper, pretty colors
fringed exactly as costumes on Bay
on Boxing Day morning

these ties hang from The Hub ceiling
like nooses, like pieces of clothing
hang from lines

each attached to a question
about Junkanoo, about culture
about being Bahamian

I wonder if such a country
such a citizen exists
on the face of Earth

among its seas, oceans, continents

ties to hang in if yur tired a livin

v.
impossible it seems,
in this world, to abide or to survive

without someone
on the other side of the divide

on the net’s other side
to play with, to fight with

as if it were impossible
to get along, to get anywhere

without someone without end
to defeat, to sword fight with

to duel with, to do it with


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
Written between 5:45 p.m.
and 8:43 p.m. Sunday,
December 5, 2009

What She Opens Up
of D.A.

i.
of these new pictures, a poem
a poem about a new woman

new woman to get to know
knew the girl
out of which this woman grew

signs of what was to come
but what she has become
I could not have imagined

could fall more deeply in love
cautious as I’ve always been

to fall upon her
afraid to fall into what she opens up

ii.
could fall through a hole in a donut
is a donut whole with a hole in it

hold her in my hands, in my arms
eat around the edges

eat until the hole alone is left

put that in my pocket,
what is left, for luck

iii.
I’ve not yet bitten into the custard
of the pastry that she is

that is finished making now
expanded in the oven
in all the right places

with eyes I savor her, I save her
I’m saving her, I’ve been saving her
for appetite to dictate,
for hunger sufficient

waited or waiting still to be ravenous

know when I tackle it, tackle her
how delicious she will be, how savory

croissant to pull apart, tear this way,
that way

devour piece by piece
piece or some or all

what would I wash her down with
Pepsi or Coco Cola, milk or wine

wash her down with champagne
and two hands

two hearts pounding
goat skin and sheep skin drums


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
Written between 3:55 p.m.,
Sunday, December 5th
and 12:10 a.m. Monday,
December 6, 2009

Devils Triangle
for C.C.

rather than textures of clothes she was wearing
it was as if it was herself I was staring at

and not just staring at, but up against
up against whatever animal she was as well

wolf or bear or beaver or otter
I enjoyed her textures, her fur

what was her sweater, fitting her, made of
of what was her pants made

found myself observing her closely
together long enough to ponder her

long enough for eye caress,
for eyes to rest upon her, weigh her, wear her

urge at one point to remove a speck
some other material, white and out of place
upon the front of her pants

what would she have thought
had I attempted to remove it

used to, in theatre classes, accessing, touching
fellow acting students, any and everywhere

this speck of material, white and out of place
was conveniently within the triangle

just above where her thighs join her body
it is where hair is or where hair was, pubic patch

we had been in conversation for over an hour
not old enough- not good enough friends
to risk breaking up

before knowing her well enough to know
how close I could get
without getting my hand spanked, my face slapped

I wanted to, up against her, pray
bury my face in the textures she was covered with
covered in

wanted her to weep against or laugh against

appreciative of her supportive remarks,
I did plant one kiss upon her brown sweater sleeve
where her left arm joined her left shoulder

was it a romantic gesture or an expression of what

how did she take it, I wonder
where did you put what I gave
or was it something I took, like liberty

where did she put my gaze
did she feel the weight of my eyes upon her

could she feel my desire


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
5:17 a.m. 04.12.09

27
for C.C.

long winded certainly not intended
went around the bend, came back again

remember riding with her to our workshop
thinking her intelligent as well as modest

woman with a Masters Degree in Banking
wanting to get out to be a writer, a teacher

remember her articulate remarks
comments contributed in our seminars

remember our two bookmaking sessions
what she wore

permitted me to see her anatomy,
how it was made, her exact configuration

remember her flat-footed steps, her seriousness

how absorbed she was in sewing
in bookmaking, how distant she seemed

remember deciding that it did not matter
if her passions were elsewhere, away from me

physically not my type, not my cup of tea
so what if she were not out poured for me
easy enough to live without

find myself wondering
if I pushed her from my mind too easily

I want to reassess her, weigh her
invite her to try on slippers, try on rings

ring of her vagina to try on, try out for size
I’d want it to hurt, I’d want her to cry out


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
5:45 a.m. 04.12.09

Between Two Soles
for Helen Klonaris

i.
something or other to lift the spirit up
to lift the spirit high

determined not to be downcast
or downhearted

ii.
Clarks, old now
stitching snapping
loosening in places

let in dirt, let in water
fail to do what shoes should do
shopping for new shoes

the many pairs of shoes
I've had in my life time
the many I've worn out

which pair will I be wearing, I wonder,
in the process of wearing out,
when I expire


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
8:32 p.m. 13.10.09

Fist Full of Rubber Bands
for S.M.

she knows how to treat me
would satisfy me easily

don't know how this is, why this is
or how it came about

maybe it was easy
seeing how wrong her colleagues got it
how wrong they rubbed me

antipathy, animosity
aroused like dust rising

vehicles passing,
speeding by, speeding through

she waited, she'd wait
until the passage was rain-wet
until rain wet the dirt road

yet she'd take it easy
pass respectfully through
pass respectfully by

I'd want her to linger longer always
than she is able to

my arms about her
I'd want to hug her, to hold her
whenever, wherever I see her

our contact, our contract
so very pleasing,
so very pleasant
she has always been to me

discount books purchased
without a second thought

without my asking or being aware
of this offer or that this was possible

the other two in charge
almost always a hassle, a harsh word
pushing, pulling, hummin’ haulin’

with her it was smooth, a smile
or she'd giggle

I'd wonder about her tired eyes
care about why
she always seemed in need of rest

in love with her, to say the least
I had not expected to be

but her gestures disarmed me
made me notice her love for me

kind to me, in my corner
a towel, some water

would insist that I wash my mouth
that I spit it out

always seemed she cared
for what was best for me
best to me, a blessing to me

I could use a hug of hers this instant
has a husband and children
to be good to too

to prepare for school and work
to make breakfast for, to cook dinner for

I must admit, I have imagined
thrusting into her kindness
in appreciation

action to suggest
I was punishing her
having her cry out, as if complaining
as if in need of help,
as if needing to be rescued

but only from unbearable sweetness
only from lovemaking
only from a man
in love with a woman


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
11:08 a.m. 03.12.09

With A Broom for Webs
for Uriah McPhee's Children

how amazing hands are
fingers and toes are
how like petals wings are

as many roaches as moths
to empty out, to get rid of


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
1:20 p.m. 01.12.09