Thursday, April 29, 2010

Wings across Waves
for D.B.A.

i.
what is old old old
made new new new
with a pencil, with lines drawn

and without color left
building to be painted yet

that new, that just constructed
was a prison once, is a library now

here since Woodes Rogers or just after
but as if demolished, reconstructed

in 2001, rededicated
HKRolle architect and contractor

by a single hand, erected again, anew
while people inside selected books
and sat and read

school children in their varied uniforms
research assignments
study for exams in the library down town

ii.
attached to her, how do I mess up
or not dress up

note of neglect, I must alter, must uproot
in its place, put a flowering plant

pretty world for her, pretty words
pretty me for her as well

old need not mean ugly
look at castles, look at trees

poui, silk cotton, others
some a century, some a few centuries
and flowering still, blossoming still

giving shade, beneath branches, limbs
leaves in abundance, in intricate patterns

almond light, almond life
almonds drop and what perfume

why therefore should I neglect me
leave me undone, unkempt

baby to love, who loves me
tied to the breath in her
by the breath in me

tied by the verse I write
verse she writes

she and I united,
in a multiplicity of intricate ways

in order that we are not easily
disassembled or dismantled
disjointed, dislocated

or just divided by forces
opposed to union between us

to our being united
as long as our lives last
or as long as language lasts

this alphabet we learned
as children

iii.
has she snapped
whether or not she has
she certainly snapped at me today

snapped at, snapped up
or nearly snapped the hand that feeds her

“I am busy,” she said, “not now!”

could hardly believe my ears, my eyes

usually she is happy to see me
greets me with a hug and a smile

is she upset because I'm in love
was not at all happy to hear that I am

out of relationship I was in and into another

she'd said to me two or a few weeks ago

jokingly or maybe not
“If you do not marry her,
“you can always marry me”

laughing, showing all her teeth
meaning it possibly

unable to figure what else
I might have done, could have done
to wrong her, to get in her bad books

what could I have thrown
into the spokes of her wheel, of her whirl

iv.
hope it is not the same cock
they've been sitting on

the same morning come
the same cock crowing

the same sun
big in them
rising

v.
are we intact, in touch, touching
connected, in spite of out of touch
as we have been since Monday

worry when I do not, when I cannot
hear from you

when without reaffirmation
reassurance of the sort entailed
in seeing you, hearing from you

on the phone or getting response
to e-mail sent or seeing something
posted

poem I can pounce on, critique
get into the bone marrow of

poems you send, I know
are another way we connect
you send me these

complement of hearing from you though
and joy like outburst
joy I am unable to contain

abide what I must as long as I must
until euphoria picks me up

until you lift me up
as a baby might be lifted up
in outstretched arms

baby just short of touching the ceiling
I just short of touching the sky

when you meet you in me
like what prayer is

when Christ in us,
is praying to himself in heaven
himself a part of Holy Trinity

our unit, union, holy too, holy two

you from heaven
come to dying day, to dying days

footsteps to exchange
for flapping wings
for flowing waves


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written between 2:20 p.m. and 6:22 p.m.
on Wednesday, 28th April 2010

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Ins & Outs
Ups & Downs
for D.B.A.

i.
don't mind dying
in love with her
attached to her

when mom died
I had Marion to connect with
who I was connected to

because of her, because of this
our love, saving me,
saved me from coming apart

this young woman
Holy Spirit-provided

she and poetry
poetry she inspires
such strong medicine
heaven prescribes
against fear and pain
against the possibility
of letting go
against disenchantment

by love and ink in pens
anesthetized

with these and her,
engaged in love making
which is unending

with her and these, lubricated
like hairs of roots, like root caps

what they are coated with
enabling them to pass easily
through soil

want her to have a baby for me
want her and me to marry

want her to acquire her PhD
want to acquire one too
before I expire

ii.
all that or all this privacy
house to myself

her all alone within it with me
too much to fill in, to fill out

overwhelmed by the thought of it
by this to make use of
to take advantage of

instead of choosing to fill it in, to fill it out
to take over, take advantage
of such an opportunity

she decided instead to be dwarfed by it
diminished by it

she could just as well have seized the day
instead she chose to be intimidated by it

I was uncomfortable, she told me later
unlike she was with me when we met
in public, in a café

she was delightful then, swept me away
though ever so subtly, what she exuded
her sexuality

I could look upon her, could bear her
only with difficulty

what sparks would our being alone make fly
I excitedly wondered

notified about her visit
only a little while before she arrived

came following an attack I made
an attempt I made to prepare myself
my house

washed myself from head to toe
with feather brush, removed cob webs
from every room, from high and low

with one brush made a shit-scarred bowl
like new

with another brush, made bath tub
and the tiles about it white too

cleaned wet dust, dry dust off bathroom floor
here and there, addressed this and that
in preparation for her arrival

don’t know who it was she sent
she never showed up
was it a little sister who did, whom she sent

sent to pick up
can of peanuts
I had, evening before,
purchased for her

nothing more than this to accomplish

to get home again, what filled her mind
all that was on her mind

she’d been out in her mother’s car
from 3 and it was half-past-seven


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written on Tuesday, April 28, 2010
between 8:55 a.m. and 11:00 a.m.

Monday, April 26, 2010

Rainwater Bucket
for D.B.A.

rushin' shoppin'
fur time ta leave over
for a minute or two
to say a word or two
to you

fur sweet words ta flow
love words, love bird

flaps wings
clears throat with song
with call

alight upon the limb
I'm out on

make your noises
noise I delight in

warbler or thrush
my heart flutters
like wings

how wet I am
my face and all inside
with tears

falling, flowing
all too freely, as freely
as poetry flows usually

oh God, I do not want
your pitying the state I'm in
this predicament

I gur ask God ta be wit' me
ta comfort me
if you are unavailable
until after the rains
begin to fall torrentially

not even a bucket left out
to catch my tears


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
10:03 p.m. 22.04.10

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Jacob’s Ladder
for D.B.A.

i.
just a ride you're going for
you're going on
when you get on board a woman

expect it to burn out soon
like getting on a falling star

fall like this when you fall in love
fall in love and continue to fall

until star you are riding
ride upon fire,
plummets to its dark address
place Plath knew well

is such a ride, tragic as it is
as it ends, such a fall
a luxury after all


ii.
not as genuine as I thought she was
what I thought we had, we hadn't

what I thought we were
we were not, we are not

gesture of dropping by,
of happening by
she wanted to insist
meant nothing at all

had to drain it of blood completely
like some meat of other
she was preparing for dinner
washing with water, with vinegar

what used to be prepared like this
I am unable to recall

down stairs of this house I'm in
kitchen actually beneath this room
I’m sitting in
upon my bed, upon the floor

was it chicken, was it mutton
was it fish

but fish was for Friday
never on Sunday

Saturday, just before nightfall
soldier that she is

unrelenting
when in pursuit of something
when it comes to fulfilling a promise

said she'd come by and she did
visit drained of meaning

she would make certain
it signified nothing

wish I were the peanuts
she went away with, in a tin
in a bag beneath her arm

peanuts she delights
in peeling tops from
without hesitating
and dipping in and eating

greedy for peanuts
wish she were as greedy for me

even if to be burped out after
even if I were to end up
in the smell of her flatulence
even though I ended up
a part of her feces

would have been better
than apart, better than
our relationship possibly
being over and done with

I had a school girl
I was once in love with

fell in, was in deep
will mercy fling me a rope
let down a ladder

O'Keeffe painted Jacob's ladder
wish I had that hanging
somewhere to inspire me

faced with having to climb

all the way to the moon
where I left my back pack

iii.
no warbler noises
only insisting upon going
upon getting home

how did she learn to drive
and when, I wonder
and who taught her

I taught my two daughters
younger daughter
acquiring her license
one day after her 17th birthday

one day after she acquired
her permit to learn


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written on Sunday, April 25, 2010
between 6:10 a.m. and 11:56 a.m.
Lame Man Let Down
for D.B.A.

i.
Wilshire

told you I was giving
In A China Shop and Other Poems
in exchange for $100

never said, never thought
I was trading our friendship for money
for any amount

have I, without at all intending to
traded for $100
what was for me priceless friendship
and now not speaking, now enemies

I want my friend back
entirely willing, entirely prepared

to give back $100 given
to get back a friend I had once

a friend I loved once
a friend I thought loved me

is money the enemy
the root of all evil after all

ii.
turn to her for everything
and I get nothing or next to nothing
more than half the time

iii.
mind and intellect
seeking an encounter
mind wishing- wishes
to meet mind

to affirm and to expand
the rubber band of creation
of the family of man
of the family of minds

family of mine is a family
of intellects,
of intellectuals

who love to play table tennis
with their shoes off


iv.
unpleasant
in loving her
being intimate

boyfriend to rub up against

possibly he has me
to brush up against as well

we pass through her
we meet in her

unhappy with who she brings me
into contact with
in touch with

v.
you can ruin me, I can ruin you
fuck too old and too young
let us nonetheless be one

are we in it for poetry's sake
can we shift it a bit
let this be the case

don't delight in being made a fool of
like Malvolio
in Twelfth Night

I am the poet for God's sake
the playwright, not one of his characters

in it for poetry, do it for poetry
to and through poetry

promise not to fuck you
without my cock in a poem
not to come inside you, outside of verse

brutal, vicious
to get through to you
after revenge, am I

in response to not being loved
after all my commitment, gestures

after all my heart beats
like hoofs beating,
galloping through the woods
to get to your log cabin


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written between 4:00 p.m.
Monday, April 19 and Sunday,
12:51 a.m., April, 25.04.10

Friday, April 23, 2010

Ever Ready to Draw
for D.B.A.

i.
today I let the barber do it
used to or used to think to
swipe off my beard

when I had to see you
when I had you to see
when sweet opportunity arose

decided today to let the barber do it
to visit Cliffie's, to put myself in expert hands
to convert me to pretty

like how I look in the mirror, in the rest room
in Central Bank

peaceful here, able to reflect and to connect
little time for conversation

this peace of hand towel, pulled with two hands
from this dispenser which turns and cuts
and my pen

these instead of cell phone
to talk into, to hear you on
hear you clearly nonetheless

asked to be let in, allowed through
I thought to pee and to freshen up
turns out I needed in here to be with you

this timeout to show you me
before hardly anybody else sees
sees me transformed, made pretty

pretty for my baby first
anybody else, comes after, don't matter

ii.
always going around
to avoid who would beg us

always going around beggars
beggars always going around
coming around who they would beg

would seek to avoid them
would seek to avoid being confronted
seek to avoid having to say, no
and again, no, without end

seek to avoid being made uncomfortable
having to say, no, again and again

I avoid going by a woman, sitting, waiting
to beg who comes by

I avoid going by, go around instead
the round about way and wonder,
are there those, similarly, avoiding me

though I ask, not for pittances or for sixpences
I ask $100 in exchange for a slim book

there are those who ask for all you’ve got
with gun or knife

gimmie your wallet, your jewelry
or give me your life

iii.
able to have you with tea
should I have you with tea

added about 8 packets of honey
squeezed them out

honey from heaven, missing from tea still
or missing from me

needed you added to the life in me
to the me of me, more me
the more love I’m filled with
more me with whom I’m in love with, added

thrust of this, gist of this,
is what I’m writing, insisting upon
coming into being or am I forcing it,
with forefinger and thumb

force honey forth, force honey out
into hot tea, hot hot hot,
the water Starbucks serves
must exercise care or burn your mouth

what lingers inside, in mind
are the politicians off the wall

House in session
and they out of their frames
walking about in the lobby

down stairs of the House of Assembly
they shake my hand

give the impression that I am well known
that I am well liked

you with me there, but not available
to be introduced

meet D’Anthra, I’d have said
if you were with me actually

who would I have told them
that you were, would I have needed to

would they not have known, right off
from the outset

seeing us, you and me, you with me
how we acted

to explain, redundant
I’d have said possibly, she’s a poet
instead of, I was getting married

because of her, I am not any more
not to that woman

wish this woman and I could wed
instead

what to tell who and what not to

had a talk about you
with my barber today
told him who it is
for whom I must look pretty
he dolled me up good

did you like my beard or didn’t you
you never commented
one way or another

song playing, here in Starbucks
at present, I’ll let you hear later

I’ll find it on YouTube, “Hallelujah”
same singer/song writer who wrote
“There’s a Crack In Everything”

including you, including me
enabling us to get in
without the back of a cutlass
across a coconut to break open

husk it, what’s left in your hand
as bald as a head

iv.
want to tell Vanessa
that the skin is the body’s largest organ

want to ask her if it is malfunctioning
like a kidney might

want to help her to get a handle on it
an understanding of why
her face might be filled
with awfully large pimples

or are they bumps
from something other than acne

is she abusing something
possibly some drug or other
marijuana or is she dependent
upon something else that’s bad for her

enter into conversation, she says,
“Obi, you see, I am having a baby

she shows me her stomach
protruding behind, protruding within
her green, Starbucks apron
and it is all clear to me finally

v.
gat ta keep your head up
gat ta keep yur dignity intact
come what may

whoever comes, whatever comes up
or whoever goes out

whatever they take with them
must be left with dignity

John Proctor, in “The Crucible”
at a high point in the drama
possibly at its very pinnacle

says, take my life but leave me
my name

I can see Daniel Day Lewis
even now, in agony

his mouth wide, screaming
this to the firmament
to everybody listening

I struggle too to keep
head up, dignity intact

do this chiefly
with poems I pin down, pen down

in another place, in another time
this one, that one instead,
to gun down

guns on two sides, ever ready
to draw


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written on Wednesday, April 21, 2010
between 2:30 p.m. and 6:53 p.m.
In Love In Deep
for D.B.A.

what is this that I am passing through
that is passing through me

will it last until I have passed it out
until it has passed me out

or until I pass out
or will it last until I’ve passed away

what she wrote recently
about finding herself
and finding that she had lost herself

I make a different twist of
when I’m without her
I am as if nonexistent

without her I do not care to exist
without her it is nonexistence

so tasteless, so bland
not a brand of day or night
I’d order

what is time without her in it
or her without thyme
and tiny limes


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
12:55 p.m. 23.04.10
Bethlehem Weeping
for Jane Bethel

my mind was on her, ill
on my mind, well as well

she was good to me, accepted me
willing to try me on, try me out
another son, had it come to that,
it didn’t quite

what love and friendship
that never ended

how enhanced
my life has been by this family
added to mine

more genuine people
I have not ever know

they are real to me
she was antithetical to counterfeit

she was gold and silver,
frankincense and myrrh

it is time for myrrh now
passed away today
ill a while, ailing long

two medical doctor children
lawyers, MP's, sister of
our first Governor General

what a thrill to recall
her daughter-in-law,
Owen's wife, and her
in church with me
in Paris, France, in 1989

we attended St. George’s together
one Sunday morning

just before going up
to take the bitter wine
of Holy Communion

I took my notebook out
her brother, Milo Bulter
on the cover of it

in it I wrote:
learning to rely
upon the living water
to wait upon it --
rather than life's
artificial beverages;
abundant, useless
against thirst
against emptiness

empty and full
because of her having
passed this way

by her passing away


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
11:13 p.m. 22.04.10

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Smithy Possession
for D.B.A.

what he gettin'
what you givin' 'im
ta make him feel like number 1
ta make him feel like he's der man

what are you withholding from me
to give him
what are you giving him that's mine

how could you, how dare you

when I'm all yours, when you're all mine

wanted to avoid swallowing you
like a bull frog swallows a bull frog

you leave me no choice
must show who's boss
show who's in charge

must gobble you up
must swallow you down

must leave him and others to wonder
where you went

your croaking will become part of mine

your croaking inside
able to be heard
only through me
through my belly
when I open my mouth

anybody in the world
able to get his hands on you

must place you beyond
the reach of such persons

how could they appreciate
how precious, how priceless you are

they will when you are not available
to get their paws upon

no longer able to sully or insult
with smutty possession


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
8:54 p.m. 22.04.10
Shells Shelves Selves
for D.B.A.

wall between us
would you commit to climbing over
I from my side, you from yours

we could get together then
to be one, would be guaranteed

girl you have a bunch of hang-ups
in spite of the many you have gotten over
in spite of those that you’ve transcended
what a lot left still

are they intact still, needing to be dismantled
because of age or because of culture

as stubborn as a horse or as a mule
places you’d get to and refuse to budge

instinct or what is it, providing these stops
suggesting them

not a word about what you were engaged in
that night/morning on the phone

occasion I wrote a poem about
concluded that you were defecating

idea you corrected in comment left
I was hot and wet and half asleep
as usual, I was multitasking

amounts to what, is still not clear
unable still to come right out and confess it

all the holding back of thoughts
all the frustrating half-said things

awkward when I get into you
find you’re comprised
of as much that is backward thinking
backward looking
as you are forward looking
and forward thinking

what’s to be done
with this combination of notions,
combination of tensions

what similarly am I gripping hard
would not let go of
hold fast to, refusing to let go
like a child to a teddy bear
or some other toy

we have our hang-ups
coupled with what we want to release
want to be released from

what though do we grip
like the side of a boat
when waves and weather turn rough
or some part in or on some vehicle
when operated recklessly
when driven too fast for comfort

earth we are on, how fast it goes
unicycle we ride
without use or need of hands
arms free to embrace; our legs are also

I want your bare body, wrapped up in
and wrapped about my own
want to be yours,
you to be my own

the way one has a bottle of beer

to up-end, to empty


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
10:55 a.m. 22.04.10

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Enough Safe

might as well go out to the edge
go out on the edge
on the edge of this volatile world

could blow up, could go up anytime,
any minute, foolishness to play it safe

where is safe, who is safe
might as well risk it, might as well take a risk
might as well go for broke

better to have loved and lost
to quote scripture or what is not scripture

life is my scripture, I am scribbling away
on whatever I can find to scribble on

hate when a pen runs out,
when no scratch appears
instead, a cut in the paper or a cut almost

out on the edge to go, to live

let George Gershwin have
let George Gershwin keep
Summer time and the living is easy
with the cotton high, with fish jumping

I want to jump, to leap
I want to/I have to keep keeping on

somewhere to get to before the rain comes
before night falls

before the knife falls
Guillotine across so many French necks
whenever there was revolution
when there was need for an execution

the blade falls, the grades fall
a nation wishes to rise but can it

cans of dicks on food store shelves
in light syrup, for $60, for who will buy


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
9:44 p.m. 21.04.10
Whole
for D.B.A.

i.
the fact that I met
and did not make the holes, means that
someone, before I came, had entered,
had gone through your earlobes

I came along late, came along later
provided earrings for pierced ears

allowed to insert them, to put them in
with trembling hands
moment like a moment in a movie, in a film

those most perceptive among those present
filling nearly every seat in Starbucks,
Sunday past, could tell they were, with us,
locked in a most romantic moment

while I labored, struggled, to find two holes
stretching your earlobes to find them
with a poet's trembling hands

trembling as you are, I am happy
I did not have to rely upon you to pierce them

I was trembling, shaking, because overjoyed
I was spilling happiness I was unable to contain

ii.
how could I have raped her
I didn’t make the hole
it was there when I got there

I entered a passage,
a chop, a cut, kind or not,
an injury which someone else
already had inflicted

you have to blame her maker
accuse who made her

it is he or whomever
who should be under arrest
who should have been arrested

I entered the hole, I do admit,
I didn’t make it

who did is who
aught to be in hand cuffs
instead of getting away
scot-free


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written between 11:30 p.m.
on Tuesday, April 20 and
12:45 a.m. Wednesday,
April 21, 2010

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Skipping with my Heart Beating
for D.B.A.

Lord let no one extricate
let no one pull out the Christmas lights plug
or click off the happiness switch

don't know if I'd be able to bear such a blow
such a loss

what is happening to me
what I'm involved in and with whom
is unbelievable, was unexpected

happiness so extreme, so severe
I have difficulty breathing constantly

it has happened to her recently also
coming across a few lines
concluding a poem she inspired
a poem I have written for her

what is useful though is how clearly she explained
her heart contracting, her having to breath voluntarily

she is a poet also, one with a background in science
as much a student of science as she is of literature
and the arts

I could empathize well, identify well
with what she, for a moment, suffered

it is what I undergo always
since we've been connected like this,
since our affair cranked up
got going, since we took off, our love took flight

I have been breathless or struggling to breathe
discomfort I welcome, do not mind at all

I am in love is why it is I'm gasping for breath
wrestling for air

addendum to this is joy
like I have not known in ages
joy I have not, in all my life, known often
did not expect

I was about to get married to another woman
when she came along, when love popped up

what flight this is I am not sure
I am as lost as three blind mice
I am as happy as a lark in the night
singing without ceasing


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
6:18 p.m. 20.04.10

Monday, April 19, 2010

In Two Moments
for D.B.A.

i.
let her misuse me if she will or if she must
I trust her with my heart, trust her with my life
I trust love, my love for her

but what if she does not love me one bit
what have I to trust on or trust in

what if all that's sustaining us is politeness
pity for the state I'm in, for this love-sick,
love-starved puppy

what if my puppy love is a creature
she does not wish to feed, prefers to starve

does not wish to see become full grown
prefers to have and to see die

a puppy, not a growling, barking, biting love-dog
able also to catch whatever Frisbee
fetch whatever stick

does she wish to see our love as large,
as healthy as this pet
she is or was glad to take with her wherever
collar about its neck, upon a chain pulling
strong as she is

so what if I am hopelessly, helplessly in love with her
I worry about not having her to myself, for myself

worry about sharing her with someone else
worry about what status I'd end up with

fear being attributed status not at all comparable
with status I've accorded her

not at all prepared to make sacrifices I've made for her
for me, just what I have done to, done with wife to be
she can do with and do to me

what I do not feel for wife to be might be exactly
what she does not feel for me

far less than in love, intimate and distant
able to alternate between these in a flash

able to flash hot and to flash cold
like a woman undergoing a change of life,
undergoing menopause

far far from such a phase, instead, at 18, she is
much nearer its other end

it is I who'd have passed through it, gone through it
were I a woman

older by a year than was Columbus
when he expired

if Obama can be president, can I not have her
can she not love me like I love her

commit to me as I am committed to her
or are we made of different substances entirely

substance of which she's made, I am prepared
to have for supper, to succor

I am prepared to suck her Suzie, tongue, tits
until she cry out, until she called upon our Maker
to take her

ii.
I feel her loving me and I can hardly bear it
we are making Literature and making love
and I am being made unbearably happy

what increment of too delightful things she's told me
accumulated over time

drops of rain in a bucket until it is over flowing

we drink love from tea spoons, her love and my love
measure out love in tea cups, in two cups
I drink from hers she drinks from mine

do you have company she asked
or don't you ever have company
I was unsure which

was she thinking it is or it was
too good to be true how available I am
when she calls, when she wants me

my friends, my closest associates though
are dozens and dozens of artists, long dead
long buried

I'd wonder if even she and I belonged
to such a realm

I'd wonder if we're in heaven
though I'd hear her in conversation
with persons on earth, with mortals

how high our affair, how high our escapades
so late in my day, so early in hers


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written on Sunday, April 18, 2010
between 9:10 a.m. and 3:27 p.m.
Add Attract Subtract
for D.B.A.

he wants to add me
I want to take him
away from you
you away from him
you two apart

he wants to add me
I want to subtract him
from loving you
you from loving him

God for his own reason
in his own wisdom
out of love divine
which knows no limit
added you and him and me
to holy scripture
to his creation

drawn like seeds into one fruit
or are we like worms in one
three in one

two buyers at an exhibition
after one painting
or are we a triptych
you at the centre
you in the middle

he wants to add me
expects me to accept
when I want to reject, to eject
when I want you to too

don't like having to compete
with anyone for cherry pie

when I have ice cream to add
scoop to scoop it up

ice cream in scoops
to heap upon your belly bare
upon your bare belly

warm belly
to make ice cream melt
want it all to myself
and for myself

he wants to add me
I want to add ice cream

kiss and suck and lick
wherever ice cream runs

certainly do not wish
anyone with us in the dish
in the room in the romance


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
2:54 p.m. 19.04.10
Salty Peanuts
for D.B.A.

i.
and I thought I could not be happier
eyes to dry of tears
happy makes fall

raining but she summoned me
I had to run to her
rain or not, wet or dry

why we cannot marry
when I've been saved
all those nights which life has been
for this day's light
or hard day’s night

for weeks with 8 days
fairy tale world

Hans Christian Andersen's
complete works
to open and read

my life's one such tale
at present

hadn't a clue such joy on earth
was available or possible

my heart beats funny
when I'm having more fun
than I can bear

my baby just left me here
where we were a while

this rainy Sunday
sunny days inside us

I want to die happy
won't want to die now

want to see what awaits us
see what the outcome of this
will be

I'd marry her in an instant
in a minute, in a month

immediately after
she graduates high school

off to university together
she to complete initially
a Bachelors Degree
while I labored on
finished off a
PhD

with God, what is impossible
if this much can happen
anything can


she is steadier about us
about love than I am

I get so nervous
my hands shake
my whole world shakes

met her, earth shook
like that event in Acts
round about Midnight


Paul and Silas in prison
singing and praying
and the earth shook
and all the prison doors
fell open and the chains
of the prisoners all fell off

the jailer awoke thinking
the prisoners had all escaped
fearing for his neck
he was about to take his life
when Paul called to him

"Hey, we're all here!"

I am involved
in no less a miracle
knowing her, watching
another poet
come into being

where will
our missionary journeys
take us

ii.
people who would exclude you
make you outsider
what are they inside of

able to turn myself
outside in, inside out

what more in this world
do I require or desire

uncircumcised dick
to roll back the skin of
and wash smegma off
like grits off teeth

what of inside-outside
what of who in, who out

dick in, slips out
to have to/two have to
slip it in again

what of who’s on the inside
who's on the outside

who's on the right side
who's on the wrong side

right hand of God
or elsewhere
to sit in heaven

dress right or dress left
when I put on
my underpants

iii.
losing my true true friends
or who I thought were friends
were true

three men at this moment
concern me

break up over money
a hundred dollars or two

I thought our attachments
were worth millions
were priceless

thought the clasps
that clasped us
made of better
than platinum

were they instead
made of brass or were they
but hand cuffs, leg irons

we on a chain gang
or enslaved still

in need of manumission
emancipation

who needs be freed though
from the bonds of love

I've lost a man or two
I cannot wait to have back

they were as precious to me
as air

why are they now not speaking
to me

I haven't a clue


though I know superficially
why

why actually is a mystery
as much a mystery
as was our affair
in Philadelphia

iv.
Lord God Almighty
thank you for anointing me
with her

what strong medicine
this love is, your love is
our love is

will it save me, keep me
or will it end me

how uncontrollably quickly
my heart beats
leaps and pauses
slows and speeds up


v.
parts of speech I love
as much as body parts

Michelangelo
taking bodies apart
to make and to improve
his art

body parts of lovers in bed
to know what to do with
to know what not to do with

parts of speech
to shift the gears of

in need of the feet
the legs of flies
for the feat in question
for feats like these

why write if not
to purify language
to distill thought

for self definition
to make a dictionary
of nights and days
of the life you've lived

vi.
I do not ask you, oh God
to make me well
or to make me wealthy

I ask you, oh God, instead
to make me yours

vii.
don't look like
I am going to recover
from her

I most certainly do not want to
do not wish to

in fact, I want to get worse
I want it worse

to guarantee that it is chronic
that I'd remain
in love with her for a life time

love sick like this
for a lifetime
she is my lifeline

viii.
girls with salty fingers reach for books
reach forth and back like waves

Prospero's Books, drowned words
washing, wishing for air

girls with salty fingers,
with sullied fingers, sullied hands
finger prints or footprints on books
as if books were beaches

reach for me with salty hands
or for baby crying in a crib
salty tears falling

salty shoulders where tears were shed
want books to last a long time,
a life time without sign of wear or tears

brown marks on book pages tell tales
aside, apart from tales told by words
upon pages printed

one story competes with another
in time, in a decade or two

books in my library
hands these have passed through

what we pass through
before we pass out
or pass over or pass on

ix.
curious to see, to know
how her breasts hang
when not held up
when not contained
in two bra cups
when they are out
of their fruit cups

how would it be, I wonder
to have them to sup on
to have them for supper

curious about the pull
of gravity upon them
about how these fruit fall

when there's nothing
but my two hands
made into cups
about them to catch them

or my mouth to hold them
even if it cannot
even if they are two much


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written between 6:30 p.m.
on Sunday, April 18, and
5:47 a.m., Monday,
April 19, 2010