As I Am
for D.B.A.

i.
something about love
and just as I come
and just as I am

want to love her just as she is
fat, young, brilliant

poet
student of science
of literature, of art
of us, of mine

need her to love me just as I am
love has met- has found us
just as we are

do, Love, accept us just as we are

soda drinking, pork eating
wig wearing girl of mine

not all mine
though I've a heart
big enough
to put her in

room enough,
roam enough
alone

time to room
and to roam
together

ii
I'm giving up
running behind you
chasing you romantically

while you ran away
while you chased
tried to own, to pin down
romance of your own

I after you, you after who
obviously not after me

happiness I seek
seeking happiness
just as aggressively elsewhere

exhausted with doing this

juggling boyfriends
switching this one for that one
while I watched
while I waited

as if I had no such feelings
no such interest

like a statue in a square
unable to feel
because not alive

as if there was
no blood in my veins
and I could feel no pain


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Pt. 1 written June 20, 2010,
concluded at 10:17 a.m.
Pt. 2 written June 25, 2010,
concluded at 1:24 p.m.

Modern Ruins
for Tisca Pratt

minutes together, spoilt
separated
music, how sick
how loud on buses

on a bus, she and I on it
coming between us
like a wedge
take us apart
and she let it
we let it

pick such a bus
one she should not have
with what we had left
to share, to savor

came to or went to
or got to the edge
studying Theatre
learning to be actor

in Movement classes
a limit since
what I could tolerate
what it takes
to be pushed over

don't like to go there
to have to live with
having gone out
of your cotton picking mind

been there
an uglier place on earth
in life, I cannot imagine

would do whatever it takes
all it takes to avoid
descending into hell on earth
not a pretty place

what a skin to have
to live in, abide in
having to live crack

whatever I must do I do
to remain intact

how I hated having to separate
having our precious time together
ruined

plummet from such heights
of delight

into the depths
anti-culture, anti-life
into the depths
of unhappiness

with joy so near at hand


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
6:29 p.m. 23.06.10

Red World Real World
for Sally Crabtree

did you see my mom and dad enclose
the community in which we lived
in prayer though it was too weak a net
to carry home tomatoes

Sally, I listened to your CD
and slept and woke up and wrote this

what another world your work evokes
it is a world for children
it is a world for the child in me, in you

world to get in, out of
this one world to get on
go for a ride, for a whirl

Sally what a girl you are
you make a man
want to be a young boy again

wonderful of you to take us back
to before we heard the news
to before the news was heard

before the news was made
you know the news is about
war, wars, about who fought
who killed, who died

you sing songs of falling stars
of falling flakes, of colorful things

not like Pilot's hands or the water
he washed them in, all bloody red


Obediah Michael smith, 2010
1:51 p.m. 18.06.10

11 Sour Limes
for D.B.A.

i.
maybe it is time to back way off
more gifts, more things than she can appreciate

more than she has the capacity to appreciate
without insulting gifts with pussy

pulling this out, putting this in to explain
what's priceless, pure

arduous the effort to bring what I brought
across boarders for her to have and what do I get

disrespect, disrespected, far from better connected
all of this for pussy, she imagines

does she not know the price of beef, of turkey
of items in the bread basket

she thinks all that, all this, all these, on the scale
on the side opposite would not weigh her pussy down
weigh her pussy up

is it that heavy, heavy enough to balance the scale
with me with kindness, kind heart, kind hands
on the side opposite

logic for this artist/scientist, when she gets confused
goes out the window

what is it, who is it that I am dealing with, giving gifts
what though do I want in response, in return
if not her pussy, if not for her to love me
and for us to be one, for her to be mine

she does not it seems wish to be made, by my gifts,
into a love bird in a cage for me to pet

she wants instead to be wild, to know the wilds
in one accord with her because
I do not want no caged bird song

prefer my birds in trees calling, singing, free
my desire is to release her not to trap her

ii.
responding to the things she'd say in poetry
or would say in conversation

sexual innuendos, suggestive remarks
suggesting she was loose, was easy

maybe she is, maybe just not with me
certainly wrestles hard against anything sexual
opening out, opening up between us

formidable, fortress-like, don't even want
to go up against that or to have to break such barriers down
or break down such resistance

not prepared to break dance if that's what I'd have to do
to access her sexually

bent out of shape and possibly bent up permanently,
morally or otherwise, to be her boyfriend this week
and not next week

can say, fuck it, lose patience
turned off, I can find elsewhere for faucet
or for river water to flow

unable to abide what I do and I
being relegated to some low place, low mind
sullied, insulted

iii.
let your waiting always be waiting upon the Lord
waiting and weighing upon the Lord

who else or who on earth is able to bear the weight
or who is deserving of your or my waiting on them

we must wait for therefore and we must wait on
and we must wait upon the Lord

I must wait upon the Lord even for her to come around
or to calm down or to call

iv.
thought her heart was mine from wall to wall
gifts enough to fit like carpet,

that space though is not vacant, not available
for filling up with fill of like a pool to fill
with water with chlorine or chlorophyll

eyes wide for Visine - to get the red out
after shedding tears
too many, too long

v.
have to learn to wait until it is my turn
like an African wife,
one of several wives of one husband

thought I was the husband, I am a wife,
one of several

vi.
God Almighty, save us our closeness
how far we have journeyed from to together

in between pain, confusion,
there's us, connected, us perfected

back on the bus, time to see clearly
to hear you speak to me

how we used to be before we had advanced
to this, to here, to now, to where we've advanced
and digressed

used to go about
with you in my pen
from place to place

remember the ways, the days, the daze
of going around, about with me

do we know each other better
and love each other less

relationship in need of reparation
Holy Spirit, fix what we are unable to
Grace give us back the love you had given us

even if undeserved, I beg you, give it back

vii.
back there, back there
back to where prayers are said
and tears are shed

to go back there, to get back there
know there's no controlling
what another thinks or feels

must leave my baby or anybody
to be free, to be for me or against me

want to be on your side, want you to be on mine
that enough to guarantee that I survive

whatever life offers, in excess of this,
is like soft paper, sufficient to protect
like gift wrapping, like bows about a gift
the gift of life, the gift is life

in love is extra topping on ice cream
how close, scream to ice cream

scream you might be greeted with
upon entering a lunatic asylum

viii.
insufficiently connected, insufficiently well-
insufficiently securely attached
for what I tell the world

for all I tell the world of her and me
suggest we are of a piece
have become like
a single piece of cloth
woven into one
or cut from one

she comes along, when it is her turn
to state, to relate it, she negates it, negates us

denies it, denies us
worse than Peter denied our Lord
though we too have been seen together

her concept, idea,
is that nothing's going on between us

though she's happy to have free
copious amounts of not so free time
when she needs it, when she needs me

admit though that, there are those times as well
when we have, on the phone, been attached
for nothing more than attachment's sake

time stretching out like a long snake
with something it swallowed to digest
another long snake most likely

in need of a lot of leisure for it to digest
we have been together without interruption
for hours on the phone, like in bed fucking
without it slipping out

ix.
need I envy Mercedes Benz you're in
when I'm in a poem, freshly written, being created,
being creative
imagine I'd trade vehicle I'm in for vehicle you're in

x.
if I can't have you, you won't have me either
for whom would it be the greater loss

would you or I have to give up more
you or I who would have to suffer more

stoic that you are, one knows not
what you're suffering or how much

I bare my sorrows, bare my woes
bear my suffering weeping

transparent me, all the world able to see

getting on was one thing, getting off another
what a ride this affair has been

must I ready myself to wave bye
as if you were leaving, going somewhere

leaving town on Father's Day
are you leaving me also, leaving me as well

leaving me what I requested, what I asked for
or because of what I requested
leaving me less than nothing at all

what will I have when
you're gone to Washington DC,
to New York City for two weeks

what to think about, what to eat
what to drink, what to dream about

recently you have been so very mean to me
things we would talk about, joke about

how serious I am about my love for you
love you cannot entertain or understand

xi.
she does not acknowledge me as being anything to her
she does not give us a name, how it stings, how it pains

this something that is nothing at all
what is empty of emblem fills me with tears

I cry over what is, that wasn't, that isn't
it is as if the verb to be were a noun
a noun that isn't, that wasn't

reach for love, like water, like mist, like air
it goes through my fingers,
my fingers go through it
able to grasp nothing

I've held her once or twice though
I've lifted her off the ground
giggling in my arms


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written between 12:25 p.m., Thursday,
July 17 and 9:01 p.m.,
Friday, July 18, 2010

When Herpes In Town
for Gladys Mendía

leave me now, I wouldn't mind, I'd understand

I have Herpes, fever blisters, cold sores
call them what you like
it has always been like leprosy to me

Herpes always had me
when not blatantly obviously
has had me in secret

precluding, limiting who I might have
or who might have me

if not impossible, difficult to have someone
for someone to have me
when Herpes has me

to belong to someone
for someone to belong to me
when it is Herpes I belong to

in between when it shows up
and when it shows up
when I'm pretty, free to pursue romance
to cultivate relationships

nervous nonetheless, knowing Herpes
can come along, can come around
can pop out, can pop up anywhere,
anytime

show its head and cause me
not to want to show my face
to want to hide away,

run and hide or not show up
leave me wanting to throw me away

I'm ugly, how can you love me
be my friend or be my wife
when Herpes is a friend of mine

when it is to Herpes that I am married
however reluctantly

Herpes and I
married more than 50 years
lied when I told you I was not
when I told you I was single

to the list of things you know I dread
mosquitoes buzzing
mosquitoes biting

Kemp Road cats
I know not who own
coming through the bars
usually locked,
across my front door
I usually leave open
all through the night

dillies, in the stillness of the night
dropping with a shocking boom
upon the tin roof
one storey back portion
of my house

to the top of this list,
add Herpes simplex
cold sores, fever blisters

coming out about my mouth
or somewhere upon
upper or lower lip
dreaded, dread this

it is like having been condemned
I've been condemned all my life
to hell, to this

I go to hell when Herpes shows up
its itch, its blisters

as if to chase away
beauty, happy, elation

depression the company
I must keep
until it lifts, until it leaves

thought you were the panacea
against all life's negatives
plus against all or any
subtraction which might pop up
come along

difficult to love you though
much as I love you

when at times like now
I do not, I cannot love myself

will love myself again though
once this passes

what though of loving God
of God's loving me
are these also suspended
does this policy also lapse
when Herpes shows up
as long as it lingers

wish I were able to love and to be loved
while this plague lasted

wish I were able to love myself
in spite of Herpes simplex

it causes me to hate myself
to consider myself worthless
to want to hide my face
to want to throw myself away

if there were a tower near by
low times like these
I might climb up, I might leap off

antithetical to this
there is this relationship
there is this girl I'm in love with

at times
in the clutches of immense happiness
happiness I'd fear
a single drop more
I'd be unable to withstand
unable to bear

I'd think I'd die
I'd wish I'd die

with my cup overflowing
brimming over
with immense joy

flatulence and using the toilet
add to the sort of subtraction,
the anti-romantic thing Herpes is

a woman's period
a similar sort of plague
similarly difficult to swallow

then there are swallows and perfumes,
art, poetry, flowers,
rainfall and snowflakes


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
11:13 a.m. 14.06.14

Twilight Time
for Stan, Dennie, D’Anthra,
Brooke, Chike, Nejmi & Louis

i.
take us subtle savior
no blood this time

just a rhyme or two
just rhythm and blues

we gurn wit’ you
we tired a here
tired a harsh

tired of der noise we hear
we want subtle, with tea

ii.
in a whirl with a girl
which turns, what way

what day of want
what day of need

what kind of want
what kind of need

resist this, irresistible that

this to combat
that to bring back

from wars fought
to free the living
for we the living
the dying, the dead

this is after the battles
have been fought

bodies of soldiers
cleared from the fields
after blood’s
been washed away

and It’s a new day
and evening comes
with its colors

twilight time

iii.
familiar face
familiar place

bite, smell,
memories arise
out of the flower pot

out of the pot of peas soup
cooking on the stove

out of what is in the oven baking
vanilla and eggs
cross over, converge

and what a smell occurs
what a smile
when happy rises
from the grave
from the dead

what a price to pay
what a prayer to pray
what a prize to win

the tin is full
of assorted chocolates
imported from Swaziland

iv.
lost in the paintings
in the painting
or left here on earth

girl here on earth
and I kiss my teeth

stuck
with the tiles on the floor
their brown geometry
wonderful small squares

address the walls for me
dress the walls for me

halls to traverse
into where
what awaits
is desired

where who awaits
is desirable

v.
unable to get lost in art

cat to attend
knickers to mend

her use of time and mine
different horses
to tend as well as to ride

galloping off
in different directions

vi.
maybe now a neutral gear
to shift into, to shift out of

when words come
or when words won’t
or don’t

want to be alone
with the man and his thoughts
with the man and his dreams

with the man in the stars
with the man in the clouds
with the stars in the sky
with the man in the moon

one the cow jumped over
don’t recall the beginning
or end of that story

what catapulted it
where did it land

vii.
pink and blue
peek a boo

sun coming up
curtains aside

fun and jokes aside
breakfast of ham and eggs
and orange juice

waffles out of the waffle iron
over them outpour molasses

someone finally
I want to have breakfast with
and dinner with and stew fish

viii.
it is for sitting on, sitting in

comfort to come to know
come forth to come to know

coffee stain my life
sustains my life

I want to be up
until I’m down

want to be up
until I’m underground

coffee stain my life
sustains my life

ix.
it is like Zen
you turn
and there it is

spot of pink
stroke or two
or blue

stroke like that
like this

color to wheel you
to where destiny ends

xi.
she wants to leave behind
her mark, her prints
her oils, herself
upon the painting
of oil made also

wants to test
the texture of canvas

wants to see by touching
wants to be scolded
like when she was eight
for doing what she was told
she shouldn’t

moment of conflict
eternally lasting

or for as long as it takes
to wake from this dream
I scream in
until I am aroused

Xii.
bit of the mischief maker in me too
like the cat where it shouldn’t go
where it shouldn’t be

I look down upon creation
from the clouds in the sky
from on high

I high from rice mussie
and der truble ta get here
with my dear

thought I’d not have been
laughing, chuckling for a while

but here I is
in a moment like this
in a moment of bliss

oh the situations
we’re allowed
in this land of woes

xiii.
she has me silly as she is
into games and things

I is a serious artist
Stan is too

the over-throwers
over turners enter
come along
and yur gatter laugh

insist upon seeing
the world another way
upon using it another way

what do Dennie
and Stan’s children
passing through their phases

through the pages
of the story contribute
to daily life
to the paint brushes
splashing

while the sea splashes

xiv.
look to me for inspiration
I’d not look away

day to be stared at
to be steadfast

xv.
riddle to unravel
time after time

rivers, brooks
merging, converging

clarity, understanding
after argument

water over waterfall
to catch in two palms
or to pass
through sieve wire

xvi.
always the front room
where living takes place

takes first place
takes last place

where inspiration
spews its very last breath

Lakers playing tonight
last shot to take

shot of rum to get to bed
shot in the butt
when the doctor calls

xvii.
like when there are
no lines to guide you
to guide me

when I free ta dance
ta sway like der day

the way the wind
plays with blades of grass
with flower petals

wind makes us drop
when will we get up, go on

there are other songs to sing
about this beautiful world

whirl world
twirl girl, I watchin’

watch, ring, chain, cuff links
ta put on
ta take off
ta take off


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
This poem, in 17 pieces,
was written in response
to Stanley Burnside's exhibition,
“The Optical and the Synthetic “
on Tuesday, June 15, 2010
between 7:00 p.m. and 8:40 p.m.

Worst Day Our Affair Has Seen
for D.B.A.

i.
growling me away from your dinner of a poem
growling me away from your dinner of poetry
from the poetry you are supping on

just when your were breaking fast, breaking bread
I interrupt, you show your teeth, warn before you bite

ii.
I push away at sex because
it's in the way like an obstruction
like a great big bolder in the road
I want to, need to, go beyond, get beyond

I push away at sex because
I want to go deeper, I want to love you truly
so I push away at sex to get it to move
it’s stubborn, it’s a roadblock

I was right after all
you do imagine that it is priced
that it is prized beyond all else

it is not worth to me as much as a lot
that we have shared
but in a world framed by sex and money
how can we get at the worth of what we're worth
at the worth of poetry

I've given up sex, I've given up money to write
I've given up love that promised
the things of this world to have you
who have little or nothing to give back

enough to be able to love who believes in poetry

our partnership allows me to write
the best poetry in the world
what a reward this is for the world
we make it a different place entirely
or slightly

value highly the difference loving you makes
your loving me makes

you want to demean us
mean, you want to undo us, you want to reverse

faced with verse or to reverse, my inclination
my raison d'être is to go forward
will go with you or without you
wanted us to go together, to journey on
to journey far

how far we've come
is something wrong
you want to get off

iii.
maybe it is a good time
to break up with you and to get on with life

it is or was, beginning to get in the way anyway

it got in the way yesterday, we in the way of us
we preventing me from doing things I wanted to do
for you, to do for us

whatever happened to yogurt from Cuba
did you drink it

how was it - what did you add to it
was it as thick as semen
its thickness was what I liked about it

plain though, with its sour taste, was not my favorite
strawberry was more palatable

one I had during the first week of my visit though
was my favorite

I've heard that orange is good
adding nutmeg to the plain I gave you
Susana recommended
did you try that or did you empty it down the drain

it seems you only like hot dogs and pork chop
and peanuts any way, and make up and wigs
to hide behind and to hide beneath
and to be skimpily clad to reveal it all

oh God I'm loving you and hating you
and myself as well
and I am close to tears with hurt

you are the person in this world
who is most against us, who is least on our side

I hear the struggles of life,
the struggles you struggle with
things you grapple with

who and what you wrestle with
in the background of our conversations

when the shifts occur, when the life you're in
when the life around you
is in the background

and then for a time I'm in the background

shifting back and forth between values
between these realities

like my having since I was conceived
to block Kemp Road out
push it out and keep it out
when it wants to break in, to break through

difficult not to let it
does at times, let it or not

want to belong to a world of letters
you want to too but would it let us

want to fuck you, would you let me
want to fuck you to make you mine
to belong to you deeply, to possess you deeply

want to put in the background
the culture and persons your life is filled with
to which and to whom you belong

know it is a herculean undertaking
maybe it is futile, the futility of Sisyphus
with his stone to roll eternally up hill
which rolls eternally back down

it is a whole life I battle with, I know
try to have you to myself, for myself
you have an appetite
of your own to satisfy
I want to treat you like desert


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written on Wednesday, June 16
between 1:30 p.m. and 3:50 p.m.

Love Puppies
for D.B.A.

how many babies
can you have at a time
I mussie a puppy, ah
one of a litter

how many tits have you got
two in case you have twins
like your mom

or have you six pairs
able to accommodate
a liter of six to twelve

hungry mouths
among your four legs
multiple tits, flapping round
between hind and fore legs
under your belly

I is a puppy or I is your baby

you is my baby
I have just you to love
you have me and God knows who
to take care of, to love

to provide milk for
to keep alive

I is your baby
or I is a puppy


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
9:16 p.m. 11.06.10

Ginny Corn Grits
for D.B.A.

contact with her is intercourse
does it happen with her
what happens with me

conversation is after all
discourse as well as intercourse

I'd be unaware we were having
unaware of being affected
of being so very touched
so very deeply

after conversation
we on the telephone
I'd happen into the bath room to pee
whip out my penis to find

I'd been salivating copiously
and for an instant not recall why
not recall having been aroused
being engaged in any way
or with anyone sexually

and realize that it was she
that it is she
who has this effect on me
arousing me deeply
arousing me indirectly

without erotic talk even
that there'd be so much
is always also a mystery

this production of these fluids
without effort
natural, precious, rich

woman for me, woman of mine
like middle C and middle C
how she and I are calibrated
toning fork and piano

see why I go out of tune
when I do not hear from her
when we are not connected
for a minute or two

playing her
she plays me/is playing me
my organ in her hands
her fingers go over me
and what music I make

her pussy wet also
too evasive to admit it
too coy yet to confess it
if, after conversation, discourse,
this sort of intercourse

her pussy lips are spitty
as the head of my penis
when I skin the skin back

always picturing me wet
she responded once

apart from which
she has not said
she would not say

I'd know soon enough
if she is wet or not
and how much she salivates

confess or not
I make her hot
I make her wet
make her pussy drip molasses

or mango juice
or bee honey
or rain drops

what emotions and tears drop
what emotions and there wet
and we're wet


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
12:01 p.m. 09.06.10

Graduation Girl
for D'Anthra Branica Adderley

how threatened are we, is love, is what we have
is fancy, fantasy up against reality, do these compete

can what is imagined, imaginary, with what is real, compete
can love withstand life's exigencies, its ups and downs
this earth, this world's going round and round

world which spun up together, put us together
will it spin us apart, take us apart

bits and pieces of love, petals here and there
of what was a flower, a flowering tree or a flowering plant

oh, I should, this evening, provide her with flowers
or today send her flowers, somewhere, somehow, someway

this poem full of petals, some attached, some fallen
shall have to suffice

she was sleepy last night, when she took and sent pictures
and she had a tummy ache, shared her face with me anyway

sweetest person I know, sweetest girl in the world
what is it, what is this that I am in love with

who is it- who she is or who she isn't
do I know the self she knows- love the self, the soul she loves

what of D'Anthra her mother conceived, delivered,
kept, knows, loves, is anxious about

from what perspective do I see her, know her,
how do I love her, see her, compared with her father

am I prepared really to love her forever
will I love her whatever happens, comes, turns up
ugly, pretty or whatever

what will become of her love for me- of my love for her
will they grow or will they die

require a grave or will love we know, love we share
come from the sky, again touch heaven

what of her grandparent's love and mine
how do these compare

where has this love of ours come from
where will it take her, take me, take us

will it take us together- will it take us apart
will we tell the world of us
will she forever have to keep us a secret

I on the other hand wanting the world to know
wanting to tell the world

am I telling to be rid of us
like sins we confess to get rid of

Lord God Almighty, I want us to keep
I am only now getting to know her

flower that she is is sour and sweet
flowers and fruit, fresh a short time

oh God Almighty is she not a tree
has she not got seasons
must I not prune and tend her, must I not be tender

even as LOVE that you are are
loving us with hurricane and lightning
with sunshine and rain


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
8:08 a.m. 10.06.10

Vanilla Yogurt
for D.B.A.

Girl, one poem
in one new Milo Butler book
I'een even pay for yet

wha’ yur say
I tell you I was comin’ here

got here safe
come one way
as usual, going back another way

jus put back vanilla yogurt
an’ replace it with guava
how vee so sweet mout'

girl I'een hear from you fur ages
how else I gur locate myself
if I don' hear from you
if I don' kno' where you is
where you are

tanks for responses on facebook
and to poems on my blog
how divine you is, you are

one song comin' on
speakers in the high ceiling overhead

when I get home
I gur sen' it to you from YouTube

Isaac Hayes, "By the Time I get to Phoenix"
this I used to love
though I've grown rather far away
from Hayes, from his kind of art

you know where my heart is
where my soul's at

we are the art which I love best
you and me, yours and mine


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
10:05 p.m. 08.06.10

Heaven Heard Prayers
for D.B.A.

i.
sweet potatoes in one pot
in hot water, I add nothing to

I time until done,
until my fork says when

what I do in frying pan
turning and pressing
a bit more complex

I add onions, sweet peppers
tomatoes

Girl, you should a bin here

ii.
vertical vulva lips
lips of mouth
horizontally laid

close relatives, twins

kisses without number
to plant, to let fall
upon both places

let's face it,
if you cannot, faint or fall out
I promise, I'd finish my chores
in the dark

kiss until you come to
until you come too

iii.
penetrated her with my pen
she's penetrated me

in each other always, ever since
at times so intense
her presence inside
my presence in her

in a minute, in a moment
in a second in time
in a stitch in time

will we ever stop
or pop or get off

iv.
oh, Dee! when I overdose
when I am unable
to take any more

all the woman I have
all the woman I need

on my knees, all my days
I have prayed

evidence finally
heaven heard


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written on Wednesday, May 5, 2010
between 10:55 a.m. and 12:07 p.m.
Pt. i. written May 24, 2010, added later.

Knock of Ages
for D.A.B.

i.
here again,
home again, in Starbucks,
hovering above the harbour

not a ship in port today, slow day

Chinese restaurant,
Double Dragon, on Charlotte St.,
because there are no ships in, closed

back from Cuba, back yesterday
up all night, not a morsel of sleep yet

saw my baby though
spoke with her around midnight
around 1 p.m., she came by in a borrowed car

almost impolite with brother Phil
dropped by, interrupted our minute or two

how awkward I was, much as I love him
almost pushed him out,
almost pushed him away
kind as he has been: house-sitting for me

did I or did I not utter a word of appreciation
mind exclusively upon the fact that
I was being robbed of time with D
seeing her after not seeing her after 21 days

poems in 3 notebooks to type and to polish
book of poems to compile
for Brown Turtle Press

invited to Costa Rica Poetry Festival, April, 2011
must select a volume of poems
to be published for that event

prior to that, 4 months or more
in Mexico City, teaching English
studying Spanish

shall require funds I shall have to raise

in the main time though what I must do,
must do aggressively, is rest
to sustain me, to refresh me

if I am to journey long
no other way to get on top, stay on top
of what would otherwise be on top of me

much to do before, on top of me,
was a mound of dirt and if I am lucky
a heap of flowers

ii.
D thinks I'm filthy
what part of me, what element
or what entity

has it anything to do with
what I want to suck or where
or with what I want to eat

she has some very fleshy parts
I'd part in a flash to lick
later let my lightening discharge
to electrocute her

she pretends to be shy with me
coy with me
but I've glimpsed her other side
she can be quite a contender

I've left a woman I was about to marry
to have her, to give her full attention

she is not as innocent as she, at times,
pretends to be: has what it takes
figure to die for, short as she is

long and short of it, I love her madly,
want her with all of me, want her with me

though I know I compete
with one boyfriend or another
for all the marbles,
all the tomatoes, all the potatoes

want her pussy hairs in my teeth
is this why she considers me/
calls me filthy

I'd expect her to/want her to wash it
before I bit it, before I bite in

silly girl she is, I want to make holler
no one had better knock
when I am having supper


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written between 5:25 and 6:22 p.m.
on Monday, June 7, 2010