Unable to Find Any
for D.B.A.

do it to you from behind
in your behind and not in your behind

do it to you from before
as well as from behind

behind God’s back
or with his blessings

ink oozing out of a pen I borrowed
borrowed ink to get these thoughts out
to get these thoughts down

I was on the road, on foot
from station to station, looking for patties
unable to find any

this poem came to me
able to return home
with something precious
for you anyway
rather than empty handed

reflected upon attachment
picture sent, image
angle of you added
and these thoughts came

erotic as they often are
these ideas to bless you with
no insult intended

assault of ink and nothing more
shake a pen out on you

ink I sprinkle all over
your naked body
your body naked

to bless you like a priest might
with holy water

holy order of creation, of the universe
I'd not wish to insult or to disarrange

what all had to be rearranged
for you and I to be united
as we are, joined as we are

in this country regulated by cretins
and the Christian Council

want what God allows
what heaven sends
what's heaven sent


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
11:20 p.m. 29.03.10

On A Bus To Town
for d.b.a. & a.g.p.

the most awesome situation
I have ever been in

as romantically intense
as anything experienced
at Memphis State, at Fisk or in Paris

this island, this life, paying off after all

what is this, joy or crisis
two women in my life
in poetry, in my art

in my heart and in my soul
in the folds of the sheets
and spreads I sleep in

in the folds of dreams I dream
in the folds of the skin
which covers my dick head

in the folds of my wrinkled skin
covering any and every where

wrinkled skin of vulvas of two women
in the meandering of menstrual blood

one of two women has severe cramps
same time this month as last month
intimate as can be with both

we are three poets
all three of us know something about love
born for nothing else

who was it who was born to slow horses
Kamau Brathwaite

with or without beard
with his fingers, when he's reading

circles and circles
what he's reading from

stirring something
like a pot with something cooking

blood circulating, my heart beating
never have I been more in love
or more alive
than I am this last Sunday in march


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
5:33 p.m. 28.03.10

A Sudden & Violent Change
for Sonia Farmer & Jonathan Murray

i
must have come away from her for something
could not have come away from her for nothing

to Hub away, to the Hub, away from home
to have go through my blood
what oxygenates or what deoxygenates it

I am pulled between loves
in love and in love, at war with each other

who will speak first
will you speak all at once
or will I have to listen to a choir of silence

art with not a word to say
artists without a word for me

tell me a secret, sing me a song
and the jewel dance, the light in it

the breeze from the fan in the ceiling
dress with its nude, like clothing on a line
like when breeze blows

nude body outside the dress
rather than inside, rather than within it

pussy with its pubic hairs
with its bushy patch
know no razor blades

ii.
keep still art, I want to take a snapshot
difficult to leap upon a horse already galloping

on the earth, galloping
but it always was, it always has been

to get off is what would create a problem

how many frames per second
to create the illusion of motion
how many still pictures

a gun clicks and a camera clicks
I turn, concerned, for safety sake

what to do - duck or run or hide
or dive for cover

cowboy, in the nick of time
pitches, lands in a pile of hay

to save his skin, his hide
to save the day

iii.
speaks for itself and has already spoken
mother weeping with her son in her arms

is he breathing still, with his head back
with his mouth wide

is he lifeless or just lifeless looking

is he wounded or has his life in his teens
been snatched away

what lead to this day
way to or from the cross

why is the mother alone with her burden
this far away
as well as this long after
she could carry him like a nut in a shell
in the safety of her womb

limbs to strike and kick and kill
arms too short to box with God

in a bout with the devil, unable to win
mother with her loser,
with her loss in her arms
asking heaven, why

weeping, broken hearted
and will not be consoled
certainly not this evening

iv.
just before the trap door goes out
from under foot
the condemned offered blind fold

just before the taut rope
just before the night sweat
the light switch and some,
as tough as nails, wave it away

wanting to die with eyes wide open
wanting the operation without anesthetics

the tooth pulled or to give birth
and feel the push, the pull, the pain

v.
for shame of what she hides her face
or hand to hide her eyes to cry

by what emotion gripped, to react like this
a hand to hide it with, to reveal it with

how bare we are when we think we hide
when we think we're hidden

don't mean to make you weep
are my words weapon

did I draw it,
pull it, when I should not have

with your weeping
you have disarmed me quite
you have disarmed me certainly

would you mind if I joined you
behind your hand

ashamed am I of harm I've caused
of hurt

I want to use words instead to heal
to reach into you
and to embrace

vi.
exquisite flies over Bethlehem
alight upon the dead, decomposing flesh

what must it smell like
when life attracts flies

the dying, the dead, the mother with child

what has gone wrong here
flies and butterflies over the city

whose city is it, whose city will it be
come morning or when evening comes

this mother's baby
she's not too pleased with

will squeeze life from
rather than breast nipples
for tender lips

skip the crib the Gerber baby food
this child for the garbage heap

vii.
crosses like kites, as high in the sky
inconsolable someone, with tears to weep

woman to weep, to wail, to mourn
and what for, with her nails and her high shoes

one foot of shoes, missing
as well as one wing

one thing to say to her to console her
wish I knew that word, had that word

wish I were able to prevent
the world ending when it does
as it does

dust to dust
and so on

viii.
is this a coyote thirsty for blood
at the foot of the cross
where a savior has died

or a place where some poor soul
has been buried
and cannot find rest

ix.
what ruin left to tell the tale
or what architect
designed the temple

are these churches attended
how empty of souls they seem

aquamarine sea in the distance
is a sign of redemption
to get to
or to come
or to come to

x.
sail boat sail
mail boat bail
or we will go under
or over or down

sail boat sail
mail boat bail

boat taking on water
and sharks swim round

xi.
flesh fresh
breasts
birth

all this pain and suffering
life to carry on
and to cry over

struggle of living and dying
life to swim through, rough

must learn how to

xii.
light to lighten the gentiles
to light the genitals

graffiti from a rest room
beneath a light switch, I recall

where was that wall
somewhere I used to frequent

these the poets floating about
like flatulence

I want to introduce you to art
to an artist, to this image

if I could make it out
if I could see it

if yur caan hear you’ll feel
my mother used to say

and which psalm is it
which invites us to
oh taste and see

must be able to switch senses
whichever vehicle required
to get me to the church on time

xiii.
installation of sand and glass instead
to stimulate me

like that one Blue Curry
took to Germany

want to leave the beach
with sand in my toes, in my shoes

or with a cut foot
to hop home on

xiv.
what a wonder wudder happen
if all had not fallen down, fallen in

where I wudder bin ta day
if I hadn't died or was never born

wonder what God tink
bout dis worl he create

what man has made of it

what would dis world have been like
wit out man, with all his toil an troubles

with all his bubbles, from underwater,
rising


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written between 5:07 and 6:28 p.m.
at the Hub, on Saturday, March 27, 2010,
of 10 visual artists’ contributions
to A Sudden & Violent Change,
Hub contribution to
Transforming Spaces, 2010

Self & Clothes to Wash
for D.B.A.

you inspired that again
what a fix I'm in
what a mess I've made
pants to change

not light and not easy
powerful, not lazy
merciless lady


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
11:50 a.m. 28.03.10

Words Can Open
for D.B.A.

i.
unable to find to say what is safe
unsafe to say what you must say
with panties off

dentures to extract not to cause harm
or alarm

this is a scene from what event
what scene before the one this still is from
and what came after

Roger Corman
and those films of Pam Grier
awesome women in prison
fighting with one another
with corrupt prison guards

in mud, wrestling
in “The Arena” you get to see
Pam Grier's bushy pussy hairs

made bare
with other women prisoners
to be washed
with water from a bucket
splashed on them

it is back in Rome
we are back in Rome
they are back in Rome

when gladiators roamed
and in the coliseum
contested to the death
while an audience watched
and cheered

back to baby doll, in baby doll skirt
made exclusively of ruffles

her black skirt and her white top
fitted to her, fitting her, outfitting her

these against the warm as cake
just out of the baker brownness
of her skin

I'd be a guard gladly
in a correctional institution
with her inside, locked away
for no crime she committed

I'd set her free
every chance I got
I'd be her prisoner gladly

in this photo of her
I'd be the board behind the bars
just to be near her

ii.
it is language to which
you have access
it is this that is the privilege

school rooms, class rooms
these to enter
one sort of thing

where it's at
within the doors
that words can open
that words can close

hard to open and heavy
for who's unlucky
or are not able to find keys
or do not know the combinations
or are unable to learn them

it is within the language
where the privileged go
or come and go

stay or leave
as freely as they wish to
or not to

it is not the school, the walls
it never was

whatever the address
or the summit upon which
it rests

it is the language access
ability to, with words, make world

and to make new worlds
use words to break apart
to rend asunder

what excludes us
if we/when we want to enter
if our rightful place is inside

words and pens
to depend upon
instead of bullets rifles
bombs

iii.
much about her
I find disconcerting

much about her
I am unable to relate to

how strong she is able
to come on

instead of flattered
appreciative, I turn off
step back, withdraw

cappuccino cup, of paper made
to put a poem on in pink

marker all I have to express
these thoughts, feelings
misgivings

iv.
love the sounds the seagulls make
their squawking
sea gulls talking

v.
how Portia faces life without me
I wish I knew

how I've faced life without her
equally a mystery

I've had poetry, written of her
of times in love
of intimate times

no more than a customer
and a waitress
in a restaurant

but what times they were
connected
like something to something

the way a hose
connects to a faucet
to be turned on


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written on Friday, March 26, 2010
between 2:10 p.m. and 9 p.m.

She Sprinkles Cheese
for Portia McClean

how Portia faces life without me
I wish I knew

how I've faced life without her
equally a mystery

I've had poetry, written of her
of times in love
of intimate times

no more than a customer
and a waitress in a restaurant

but what times they were
connected
like something to something
the way a hose connects to a faucet

to be turned on


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
9:00 p.m. 26.03.10

Bone Adam Gave
for D.B.A.

i.
poem pumping iron
muscles to make taut
elasticity to make consistent

must not allow another writer
to insert his steps in yours

each poetic step your own step
your own essence in it

when it is someone else's
how apparent this is

line from elsewhere, imported, inserted

critics, experts, able to tell
that one of 38 plays
is not Shakespeare’s
is not his exclusively

who able to tell
what of Mozart's Requiem
he himself wrote
and what and where
what was added
to complete it

line I gave you like a prosthetic limb
wooden, wouldn't do

what do you need my limb for
my bone for

unless it is one you haven't got
bone Adam gave
for Eve to be created

I've another bone
to make you and me creative

my 207th
is yours and mine to share

neither yours nor mine
this to fill you in with
to fill you up with

answer to insert in a blank
deposit with deposit slip
to slip into the bank

ii.
een no poem left in me
about her, about D'Anthra
passing feces to add in, to add on

aborted our conversation last evening
and she allowed me to, encouraged me to
to get to Historical Society for an event
which I thought commenced
at half-past-seven

got there running to get there
got on the back of a truck
to be transported part of the way
to find the building shut up tight
all locked up with chains and lock
to secure the front door

event I thought began at half-past-seven
began at 6 p.m.

regretting having mixed up event last evening
with another event this evening, at the Hilton
which does start at 7:30 p.m.

left delicious, delightful conversation
to run my heart out, my guts out
to get to what was already over

The Lord lets such things happen
for his own reason

I do not question, I go along
thought I do regret having to choose
to relinquish such a tie

our critique of her poetry, of mine
our literary chat, regretting giving that up

“How do you know
so much about literature?”
she asked and I said, "Right!”

but I've been searching myself
my head and heart
for a better answer
to her flattering question


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written between 7:45 p.m.
Thursday, March 25
and 1:28 a.m., Friday,
March 26, 2010

Some In the Morning
for D.B.A.

in love with you again tonight, sweetheart of mine
appetite, I've got it back
I can eat until your bowl was empty
lick until your bowl was clean

licking I know will make you wet, and wetter still
more I lick, more I want
lick you, you will beg me, lick you more

though you find this cat lapping you up
a thing you were unable to bear
you'd beg me at once to stop and not to stop
desiring to die of joy, of enjoyment

have to find your centre, sniff it out
along the path you took

very centre though to get to, on hands and knees
you to open and to enter, moist as a dewy morning

sun, great, big, fiery orb, rising, shining, warming


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
3:31 a.m. 21.03.10

Apple A Day
for D.B.A.

word to get through to you
to pass through to you

recall a few times a few false starts
to get to where we are

timid of ideas
you wanted to withdraw
or to disconnect,
to disassociate yourself
from what was too strong
or what seemed inappropriate

what has changed since then
since those bumps in the road
necessary it seems
to get us to this place

to where we are, to where
I could not have imagined being

such closeness,
as pressed together as we are
such a rub as this
I had not imagined

did not imagine
you being the closest person
in all the world to me

imagine that, such a contract
written in verse and similarly signed

will I get out today or will I stay in
in cyber space where we reside
where we're together, you and I

window to it, my PC,
this computer upon my desk
with its TV-like screen

via this,
you enter my heart
and soul and senses
and through it,
I am able to access you

when I go out, when I'm in town
I far from you, from home

but you know what, I'd feel you
filling my body with emotions

traversing all the wires in me
the arteries and veins

and with pen in my note book
I'd out pour what is over flowing
spilling over


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
4:25 p.m. 24.03.10

Shirley & Charlotte
for D.B.A.

search every place, everywhere, every face
search every body I see go by
every female shape for sign
of who might remind me of her

whatever whiff or whatever bit of her
I can snatch at or grab at, lap up or wrap up

anything for thirst or hunger
to quench or to satiate

though I know there is no way
I could get enough of her
even if I cooked her and ate her

would I drink her pee, I wonder
is it grotesque, idea of my own to consume

this fever I have for her though
wet my head with her urine and tie it
and fall asleep, would that help

love like ours, like mine extends
into what's freakish or almost does
or boarders it

how far can what is pure go, into the infinite
or has it its limits

where to with this love in my heart
or with her in my arms

won't want to corrupt a hair follicle even
though if we copulated, upon the bed after
hair would remain, there would be hair

would I be able to tell hers from mine
ours combined to make hair
on our baby’s head

always the issue of where love is
compared to where it wants to go
or will go when the page is turned

or what is beyond the bend
in the road we're traveling on


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
5:21 p.m. 23.03.10

Draw In A Chiffonier
for D.B.A.

cannot wait until I'm married
to come to life, to be alive
I must live now

I'm dying now
and I must have my antidote,
its antidote

and it is she and she is it
she’s life to me, and joy to me

all to me and more to me
against life becoming less and less

need the antithetical other
minute by minute too alter

too late to wait until later
must have this balance now

she is death's undoing
ungluing me from death’s sticky hands

its paws, its claws, closing
she opens again, demands that he flee
from her and from me

while we embrace, while we go wild
two unusual lovers, two poets

one a young chick the other a rooster
should have been rusty
but because of love and art, is not

how we got shoved into each other
a draw in a chiffonier, full of underwear

I know not, I do not question
heaven or her or happy


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
1:28 a.m. 12.03.10

Wheels Over Our Apples
for D.B.A.

shatter
shudder
shoulda

shatter us, did she
shudder to think of
such effortless power
shoulda act differently possibly

whenever she showed up
I'd allow her to break the spell

cast another like a net
over helpless me
like a blanket
over her and me in winter

shatter
shudder
should have clung
to the vessel I was on

instead I allowed it to capsize
allowed her to upset our apple cart

apples all over the place rolling
others in carriages, in buggies

mule drawn, by horses drawn
wheels over our apples
across the street rolling

rolling along the sidewalk
and heavy feet, in boots, in shoes
mash them, crush them, squash them

shatter
shudder
shoulda made a different turn
not look and not listen

she turned my head
she had my attention
and got it again

heart of mine, beating just for her
never her intention to have me
all to herself, all for herself
all by herself

more than she knows
what to do with

what of me would she
want to do away with

what of me has she no use for


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
9:55 p.m. 21.03.10

Songs they Amplify and Ruin

no end to the shit
with which you're showered
in this neighbourhood

is this my neighbourhood
its nastiness, this nastiness

am I part of it, do I belong to it
to this, to these people, these habits
these litter bugs

which is one level
the criminals, deliberately dropping filth
what they've emptied of food, of drink

their bottles, cans, boxes, bags,
paper wraps, plastic wraps, cups
Styrofoam containers, at times empty,
at times with what they want no more of

thrown away along the street, beside the road
these things end also over my fence, in my yard
where recently, I have seen some come
to relieve themselves

we did not know that anyone was living here
here where their poet laureate lives
house in which he writes the beautiful
most meaningful songs

house full of so much culture, so many books
and so much art

they must be super super insensitive
not to sense that I am here
that such as what happens here is going on

but there is no inclination towards reverence
in this culture any more
or what is revered, next to useless
to improve them and transform them ultimately

how harsh the air here, the atmosphere
and so much fear

who are most afraid among us
those who are without the courage
to keep the peace, to go in peace, to walk in peace
to live in peace

those who do not know poetry
from the songs they amplify and ruin

from air they fill with smoke
from fires they illegally burn

or children they fill schools with
fill inner city neighbours

when they let out, when they pass by
must listen out, must fear

no telling what they might throw
what they might do

a little older, a few years older
up on motor bikes on one back wheel
high as kites

soon after accidentally dead
or violently murdered

see their parents then, their families then
see who is attached to them

complaining, crying
as if these persons were ever human beings


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
11:32 a.m. 17.03.10

Red Balloon
for D.B.A.

not relinquishing you even a little bit
ever since our conflict I want you more and more

resolution to it and I was plunged into an ocean of love
into an ocean in love and helpless and hopeless
and that has been the heart of the matter

ever since argument with her resulted in this
in upstaging marriage arrangements
I mean serious plans

we'd be debating, contemplating and she'd show up
or show signs or wave, going by
and I'd want to follow her, I'd have to
my heart bouncing off behind her

she the one the red balloon attached to, belonged to
string for her to catch, others could only snatch at

unfair if I didn't tell wife to be, I'm in love with someone else
a woman only recently, met out once
met her flirting with another man
tried not to show it or tried not to hide how upset I was
how upsetting it was

we went on to have what was for her and for me
the time of our lives

of dat I wrote "Uncork Champagne"
what I write of her in the middle of another affair
burns with so much more fire

I think of conflict, I think of love against love magnified
and holocaust and holy hell

Hitler was German and human being
Hutus and Tutsis were members of their tribes
Rwandans and human beings

and what of what we love to be loyal to
what should come first, be put first

don't know how this is, what this is or why this is
it might be because it is so pure
or she so without experiences
the other woman is so full of

maybe that is why she is easier to love
maybe that is why she moves me as she does
it does remind me of Olga and Picasso
and Marie-Therese Walter for whom he left Olga
for whom he ended his marriage
though he did want to end it anyway
and would have, one way or another
I am not even married yet

what promise has a relationship
with a girl in school, of whom I make poems
girl I can cause to laugh without abating
for all of five minutes, for more than five minutes
laughing like applause

when Leontyne Price sang her farewell concert
at the Metropolitan Opera House, Giuseppe Verdi's “Aida”
she concluded "O patria mia" and got a standing ovation
which lasted 15 minutes and she stood soaking it in
and soaking it up and joy broke her heart
and under the burden of so much love publically
by public outpoured

stoical and as professional as she was
you saw her sob, saw her come apart
as well as she was held together, and she wept

I was asked about this at the outset,
about my relationship with who I was attached to
or would attach to through writing, through art

I thought that I could uproot and dispose of anyone
growing in my garden

had no clue though how deeply rooted
how deeply planted was this woman in my heart
in my life, even I am shocked by roots about my heart

like when daddy mossed plants, removed bark
about a stem like a slim Band-Aid about a finger
around it placed wet moss, about that placed
a piece of plastic and with string, tied both ends

what an amazing thing to see, after several weeks went by
within the plastic, through the plastic, clear to observe
through the moss, all these roots

new plant to plant, to cut off, take off the plastic
and put it in a pot to be put in the earth later

these in pots he often sold
what do I make multiply

my dad was such a business man, such a provider
such and entrepreneur, I make poems and very little money

my mom and he had 12 children, I have published 13 books
am I good for nothing, am I good for something
am I worth anything

I know I want the women in my life to know the truth
those who share my heart, those within my heart

wife to be might have already learned how not to love me
I have certainly had my sessions away from her
and without her as well
writing of this young woman whom I love

I thought wife to be was my Lady Simpson
thought for her, I'd abdicate, leave the throne
but what would I not do for this young woman

give my heart gladly, readily
though I know not what might happen when she is twenty
leaves her teens, turns a bend, the bend in the road

becomes adult, matures fully or when she leaves school even
off to college is inevitable, she is smart
and can become a medical doctor even or a college professor
and I'd want her to achieve all she can

not like Ernest Hemingway's mother who could have become
an opera singer and reminded her children and added
“if it were not for you children”

it might have been because of this ambition and this possibility
in the arts, why her son went on the be the novelist,
the performer in public he became

what's to become of these two women in my life
and in my heart

the younger one of whom I am, without a doubt, in love
the other one I have not actually met or seen in 19, 20 years
I am not as attached to

attached by e-mail, we got Skype and we came apart
like a toy in a child’s hands


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
10:22 a.m. 14.03.10

Light Lit
for D.B.A.

am I seducing you with alphabet
with my breath

want your breath and my breath combined

your breadth and my breadth
your depth and my depth combined

am I seducing you with pen I push in you

measure your depth
take your measurement
plummet your woman ocean

am I seducing you with my candle wick
with wax dripping from it


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
2:28 p.m. 21.03.10

Grape Skins & Rose Petals
for D.B.A.

at cousin Jack's funeral
I am thinking of you

the choir was singing
I was thinking of you

I was feeling happy
and thinking of you

the pastor is preaching
or is warming up to
and I am thinking of you

what is this that I am afflicted with
what is it that I gat

what doctor to take a bit of blood
to examine it, examine me

this to infect a nation, a people
epidemic of happiness

is that why I put you and me in poems
is ink the thing to translate, to transmit
to convey to all the world
what a difference meeting you has made

I am not the same, the world and you and I
are changed, were changed

when eye opened and you entered
when you got into the pen in my hand

into the ink in my pen
into the blood in arteries and veins
into the life inside me

petals of roses to dye rose-red
a veil for you

grape skins to dye a night gown
and bed room window sheers
room for you to be bare in

light to come into, in through
these colors, these shades

these to bathe you in, light
to bath you in
in ink, is your reflection cast

how far I've strayed from wife to be
to be with you, for us to be together
here and there and everywhere

with me everywhere I go
as present as my beating heart
as lungs,
expanding and contraction


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
12:37 p.m. 20.03.10

Our Terrible Reality
for A.G.P & D.B.A.

right in the centre like something in my eye
as small and similarly all that matters

while she occupies as she does, where she does
and she makes my eye water

why while I meditated upon a phrase to include
Pierre-Auguste Renoir's
"Luncheon of the Boating Party" entered my mind
I have no idea, no clue

all I know is that I am in you, with you,
when I thought I was in love with another woman,
an older woman

though younger than I am by far
but I am a year older than 3 times your age
can expect no future, don’t know what I could expect

should I ask for your hand in marriage, see what happens
dumped my heart into another impossible situation

love they say is blind, it is worse than that
in the rooms where love gropes about, it is dark dark dark

am I to follow my heart, as the saying goes
is that from Proverbs or elsewhere, from some text,
some book of wisdom to be trusted

should I just put the centre aside, go on, get married
to whom I love second-best, do what's practical

could I, should I, would it not be dishonest
as dishonest as being homosexual
and taking on a wife anyway

knowing that it will rise up to haunt you latter
battle of the heart

why this complication,
thought I could set aside, put aside
whomever, whatever arose or stood in the way
of such righteousness, of such holy plans

but this one woman, I'm obsessed with
and never more than now, when plans are ongoing

inconvenient to assume the throne
it in conflict with what matters at heart
what matters for and to the heart
he gave up the throne of England

give up this woman I'd been planning to marry
does not mean I can replace her with a girl in school
not 20 yet

where therefore am I to place her, put her
along with emotions, where they would not misbehave

is this conflict possibly the energy I need
to write a novel or a play, some work which
would provide us income, my wife and me, our family

I so resent the thought of putting this little light of mine
anywhere but at the centre of the dining table
at the centre of my existence

I want to let her shine, shine as brightly as she can
on the other hand, where am I in her life

I must come after school books
and her school assignments for certain

how, therefore, can I put first, someone
for whom I am but something on the side
that is as good as it can be

I'd not want to be haunting her when she needs to study
I'd not want to affect her grades adversely
When I myself am and always was so grade orientated

order oh, God, the properties of my life, the persons in my life
and order my steps, oh, God and thoughts and plans

help me to keep the promises I must keep, to be mindful of
the miles I must go before I sleep


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
12:20 a.m. 21.03.10

Little Bit Goes A Long Way
of D.B.A.

i.
I want to write erotic about you

I injure me
eye teeth and I, in mortal combat
in conflict, as we often are

you and I in deep agreement
allowed photographs to look at

as close up as I can make them
or get them

what is it about her mouth
about when she speaks, that’s odd,
that’s awkward, that’s not pretty
that draws attention to itself

I have a similar flaw, as does
my nephew, Clay

mouth and teeth, tongue and lips
unfit relationship

parts which do not fit together
go together well

not like a well designed, well fashioned,
well running machine, bite just right

like some bodies, some persons
make strides so just right
however fast they go or went or came

I could have been a politician
or a reporter on TV
if when I spoke, I looked pretty

I could have been an actor
on a movie screen, out front and loving it
and earning because of it

I must instead cling to the background,
the side lines

except when I am outfitted in poetry
in verse, mask made of words
and nothing more

ready when I am attired in words alone
she is similarly naked, similarly armed
and similarly clothed

mike in her grip,
able to give who is listening the fits

unable to help but applaud approval
her art as relevant as this
as ticklish as she is delicious

ii.
far away from home and from her
restaurant of women, of waitresses
in white blouses, in red vests

with some conflict to settle
focused upon something or other, unjust
which transpired recently

“She can’t get you one way
“she’d get you anuder
“in I tell y’all she vindictive
“get over it!”

nice among them though
as if I belonged
they brush against me
when they go by
I stand among them

they talk with as much passion
as I write

do they know that I am,
like water, in ink,
reflecting their shadows

I am her shadow and she is mine
this girl on my mind,
on my mind all the time

I’m in pain also
what remains after pleasure
an erection she inspired

rock hard, stiff cock, pain follows
rest my palm flat upon it
one and then another

ache in two legs
down to the ground I stand on

I was waiting for rice
writing still after it has/I have
been served

I have rice to eat with chopsticks
after which, an enjoyable walk home

cornflakes to stop to purchase
I’ve been without any for too long

my honey with me here and there
and now and then

I live without gap between us
in some realm,
on one level or another

it is art which connects us
permits us connection
when all other ties fail

iii.
at times without mercy
I'd strip her clothes off and fuck her

even if it is a sheet in my notebook
which we together wet, soil,
spoil with enjoyment

I take her as swiftly
as a hawk sweeping down,
swooping down upon rabbit,
across grass, in the open, fleeing

and claws open and close
and rabbit and hawk in flight
and good night rabbit

though the moment before
it was high noon,

hawk with its rabbit
alight upon the moon
to have lunch

vi.
girl, Dee, you should see
the gulls in the sky

NCL leaving the harbor backwards
two lengthy strands of flowers,
yellow and pink, upon its front and side

pilot to clear the way, to show the way
and gulls, hundreds and hundreds of them
fly up, darken the air
what lovely looking scavengers sea gulls are

would you make love to her, wife-to-be asked me
that couldn’t happen, I responded emphatically
and repeated it emphatically

on my own, alone, I reflect again
upon such a possibility

my heart constricts for an instant,
I can hardly breathe to think of it,
to imagine it

enough to be getting to know her better
as the globe goes round,
as the round earth spins
as love leads us on

v.
into what words, here beside the road
by P.I. bridge, where I’ve stopped
to connect through this pen and a page
would I translate, I love you

what is not words is what I wish to convey
to transmit

almost as foolish to be stopping here
as that man and his horse
on a snowy evening, in Frost’s poem

with miles to go before he could sleep

wanted to stop here though
with traffic flowing by, going east
along Bay St. or over the bridge

when gripped by uncontainable feelings
you know what results

though you’re not a boy so you might not

what happens in and to a girl’s anatomy
when overcome by emotions
by strong feelings

who better able to,
with thoughts alone,
produce such a sky scraper

heaven comes near, up against it
up against you as if you were here
were near

oh the little bit of effort
with which you produce
such large amounts,
such extreme reactions

how condensed you must be
that such a tiny little bit
goes such a long long way


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written between 12 noon and
7:25 p.m. on Saturday,
March 13, 2010