earth spinners

2009-12-14T21:23:00.001-05:00

2009-12-13T01:53:00.004-05:00

In A Photograph
for D.B.A.

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

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

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

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

what set of notes is this
what divine composition

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

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

girl like you must have inspired
Beethoven's Für Elise

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

bananaquit in banana tree
quetzal with long tail

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

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

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

2009-09-08T14:38:00.007-04:00

Champagne Glasses
for Crystal Morley

star-studded, star-lit
twinkle like stars twinkle

do not go off ever

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
6:50 p.m. 07.09.09

2009-12-08T11:06:00.003-05:00

Prize or Surprise
for Ian McDonald

for an explosion of recognition
I must ready myself

it is coming like a hurricane

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

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

should I like dolphins
be jumping up and down

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

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

I feel the rivers my pen makes
join other rivers

like trickling tributaries, into a mighty flow

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

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

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

none of these would surprise me

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

I am beginning to go places
beginning to be somebody

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

I have for years
been unable to put it down

instead of weighing me down
it bears me up

my cross eventually will be
a feather in my cap

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

2009-12-08T03:10:00.003-05:00

Fruit Basket
for D.A.

great big juicy custard apples
our neighbor use to grow

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

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

desire to convey to you
how mad I am about you

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

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

covered in no more than hair,
here and there

grass before the door
to close it or to attempt to

what is hair there for

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

I want you the way nature wants you

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

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

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

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

2009-12-07T17:36:00.001-05:00

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

i.
under the weather this week

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

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

we can, afterwards
get together again

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

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

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

iii.
she is incongruous with here

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

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

situation does not produce, provide
fulfillment

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

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

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

iv.
10 ties into/in two positions

are there ties actually inside
what has been Junkanoo pasted

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

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

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

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

among its seas, oceans, continents

ties to hang in if yur tired a livin

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

without someone
on the other side of the divide

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

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

without someone without end
to defeat, to sword fight with

to duel with, to do it with

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

2009-12-07T00:51:00.005-05:00

What She Opens Up
of D.A.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

eat until the hole alone is left

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

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

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

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

waited or waiting still to be ravenous

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

croissant to pull apart, tear this way,
that way

devour piece by piece
piece or some or all

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

wash her down with champagne
and two hands

two hearts pounding
goat skin and sheep skin drums

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

2009-12-05T01:05:00.005-05:00

27
for C.C.

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

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

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

remember her articulate remarks
comments contributed in our seminars

remember our two bookmaking sessions
what she wore

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

remember her flat-footed steps, her seriousness

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2009-12-05T03:29:00.002-05:00

Devils Triangle
for Christi Cartwright

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

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

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

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

found myself observing her closely
together long enough to ponder her

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

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

what would she have thought
had I attempted to remove it

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

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

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

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

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

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

wanted her to weep against or laugh against

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

was it a romantic gesture or an expression of what

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

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

could she feel my desire

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

2009-12-04T16:31:00.002-05:00

Between Two Soles
for Helen Klonaris

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

determined not to be downcast
or downhearted

ii.
Clarks, old now
stitching snapping
loosening in places

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

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

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

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

2009-12-04T13:22:00.001-05:00

Fist Full of Rubber Bands
for S.M.

she knows how to treat me
would satisfy me easily

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

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

antipathy, animosity
aroused like dust rising

vehicles passing,
speeding by, speeding through

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

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

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

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

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

discount books purchased
without a second thought

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2009-11-12T23:35:00.010-05:00

Walcott Nassau Evening
for Sonia Farmer and Marion Bethel

in Ezra Pound's "Moeurs Contemporaines"
"the friend of the second daughter was undergoing a novel"

this night to undergo, I've undergone it now
evening with Derek Walcott in New Providence
at The College of the Bahamas

anticipated, waited, prepared psychologically
more than otherwise

did not have my hair done, my nails done
did not buy a new dress or new shoes

I wanted to be ready, I wanted to have appetite
for every part he came with, for all his bits and pieces

for all it was to mean, wanted to get from it
all there was to get, to take, wanted to be in step mentally

in steps in terms of the steps I actually make
to be able to walk with him
while he walked us through Walcott
or drove us or dragged us, horse and carriage-like
or upon his back

is this Hemingway though, in WW I,
carrying a wounded soldier, shot in battle, out of harms way
is Walcott's heroism attained otherwise

no less warrior-like, his poetry takes no hostages
mercilessly direct, tells truth, leaves you to gape at it in awe

wanted to be ready to gather in what he dished up
the wheat of his words, whatever he slashed down

it is time with its scythe though, gathering us in
Governor General, A.D. Hanna, his wife's funeral tomorrow
giants among us, fall down, get up until they can no longer

what Walcott has gotten up with, what he drags along
like W.B. Yeats in "A Woman's Beauty," in which he wonders
"What wounds, what bloody press/ Dragged into being
This loveliness?"

“Writin yur lil poem, ah?” I am from time to time asked
I think of bur Bucky and Bra Whale, the pulling match they had

Walcott wanting to pull us forth and what wants or who wants
to pull us back
he is determined not to let them

pulls for the Caribbean first, we are down under,
beneath the underdog
he pulls though for humanity, pulls for the human race

wonderful that this gift, his gifts belong first to us
our brother, our uncle, our literary dad

not come to us from far away or from long ago
here, now, indicating what is possible
for Caribbean children, Caribbean people

this to link to Usain Bolt, like lighting out of Jamaica
fastest man since the Games begun
at Olympia, in Greece, in 776 BC

Walcott, tall as Homer, tall as Dante, with his Shakespeare powers

with language, with the best who have ever used it,
wrenches life around
we turn our heads to listen, to look, to be amazed

see him standing, I see Rodin's Balzac
approach him, I touch him, I tell him
we met in Guyana, I am a poet too
I don't know if he believes me

given him two books of mine to attempt to convince him

writing what I've written here
to attempt to convince myself and a few friends

writing this because Sonia, in New York, has ask me
to act as window to enable her to look on, to look in

writing this because I love Walcott and poetry
and poets at home and poets abroad
all around the round world

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
11:03 p.m. 12.11.09

2009-12-01T14:06:00.002-05:00

With A Broom for Webs
for Uriah McPhee's Children

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

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

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

2009-11-29T22:58:00.003-05:00

Mallory Knox
for Z.P.A.

i.
what if you chose every day
just to live until you died

how many days, how many deaths
would you die before you died

ii.
mayhem has taken root, has taken hold
has taken over

iii.
blow up your ass
or blow your ass up

which of these did you offer, will you do
on a hot summer’s day
on a cold winter’s night

which of these will you do
to demonstrate your love
and devotion

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
Written between 7 p.m. and 8:15 p.m.
on Sunday, November 29, 2009,
while watching “Natural Born Killers”
at The Hub, on Bay Street, in Nassau.

2009-11-29T17:05:00.003-05:00

Nancy Sakis
for Nsakala Emmanuel

YouTube, your tube, you in a tube to squeeze out
ache for more, for access, to be nearer

engaged and not engaged, connected and apart
heart-ache, heart aches because of it, because of this

unbearable to have you and not have you
to reach you and not reach you
to see you and not see you

I want you so much, I want you so bad

could bite, could claw to remove what's between us
what's between us is what brings/
is what has brought you to me

my computer, my computer screen
want to reach through it, want to reach you through it

claw away, claw at, claw away at what seems like barrier
I'd break glass, I'd cut myself

I'd end up seeing only what's in the guts of my monitor
I'd end up with it in bits and pieces, no you at all
further away from you than I am now

what is actually between us is an ocean to cross
my desire, to get back to or across to West Africa

have your first name not your full name
without address for you,
how would I find you in all of the Congo

a love affair like none I've ever entered
or been in

how to enter it deeply,
how to end up in the heart or at the heart of it
enter or exit it, which

I have you on YouTube
I have this slim, black pen in hand, it's plastic

my hand made of flesh, your hand in my hand
this I wish, for this I long

dish to dip into, dish for two to eat from
to empty

dish your hips make, to eat from
dish to make music, music to fill it with

pound into it to make a steel pan
pestle and mortar to prepare spices
to sweeten a pot

bruised, ground, what smells released
will perfume our kitchen if God allowed

I wish this, beg him to make you real
to make two one

within this spinning world
upon this spinning earth
to spice up the universe

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
3:50 p.m. 29.11.09

2009-11-28T15:41:00.001-05:00

In Love Still
for Gina Lowe

am I desperate for a glimpse of her

though she is with child, another man's not mine
locked up, locked away in her
as securely as money in the volt of a bank

doors of the bank as well, closed
I'm in the ATM booth in this cold air

anyone who goes by inside turns my head

how surprisingly thirsty I am for a glimpse of her
for just one look of who is now, who was always
beyond my reach

pen I grasp is not Marie, is not she
whom I long to see, to behold, to squeeze

once I embraced her, too sweet treat
not because of this that she is large with child

I would have to have gotten closer
only the Holy Spirit
capable of impregnating a woman on earth
while still in heaven

what of my pen with which I write across a page
what can words convey
without disrobing, without getting into bed

how I envy who is close enough to her for sex
intimate enough to ejaculate
through her, into the future

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
4:23 p.m. 13.10.09

2009-11-27T03:03:00.002-05:00

In Heaven On Earth
for T.L.C.

all by myself, on my own in love

no wall to bounce off of
no hollow to echo what I hollered into it

you have a way of being elsewhere
maybe you are elsewhere

placed where you are by age, needs
personal, social, professional, academic

and I am elsewhere
wishing we were able to share passion
to be on one page

on one bed sheet or strip it bare or get on the floor

unable to or are we able to
climb down from our differences and embrace bare

my beard and hair, I had trimmed today

you maintain difference, distance
I have to go elsewhere to seek hard on

unable to rely upon you to take my dick into your hand
make a fist about it

that is if your fingers can meet about it
after you've made it hard, made it long
avoid what we can embrace

poem about eating your pussy
to ease your recurring headaches
you read and say something seems missing and say no more

suggest you having deep emotions to express
I assume they had to do with us but not at all

about a job you yearn to find
while I yearn for you like no one on earth

frustrating, my desire for closeness
up against your casual response

you without passion or with passion for elsewhere
other things

our needs not matched, do not meet
one journey, one you're on, one I'm on, another

in 10 years I'd see where yours has lead
we'd see where mine has lead

if not into a grave covered with a mound of dirt
and a heap of flowers

young enough to be my flower girl
I want you to be my bride

want to take your wedding dress off
and fuck you till the bed collapsed
after it did, fuck you still

what a fit you and I make or can make
that would be an outfit to leave Eden wearing

dick thrust up in you
digger in a sheath, hidden completely

within you, you'd holler for sure
with your head thrown back, with your mouth wide
I able to see the tunnel where your throat began

dark areas within you, I'd love to visit and to revisit

is what I've expressed what you need
or thought to sharpen all your fingers to express

how you take your talent for granted
how passionately I feel for you, you take for granted also
an irksome response

I have headaches too in response to how you treat me
how I am treated

lukewarm, cold shoulder, cold chicken, cold turkey
cold cock to fuck you with

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
2:45 a.m. 27.11.09

2009-04-22T14:38:00.001-04:00

Find my two new books here:
http://www.lulu.com/content/paperback-book/seventy-poems/4048894
and here:
http://www.lulu.com/content/paperback-book/open-testament/4018993

2009-11-13T04:36:00.004-05:00

Thy Kingdom Come
for D.A.

something swift I won’t have to edit
to the bottom, to the heart of it

what it, what is it
affected by seeing her, deeply, deeply

impact upon emotions, wordless
or I could name it

should I if I'm able or reticence

know how these people are, this culture is
in which we live, which we call ours

though our desire is to break it apart
step out of it

plaster of Paris men and women
when we have feeling to feel, thoughts to think

get myself in trouble confess, express
say the rest, do I know what I feel,
what I think of us

is sex the end of the road, the end of the day
or is it love, that great big possibility

emotional upheaval, emotionally out of control
possessive and jealous, seen in public
public able to read what is happening

two people in love, attached against all odds
forbidden affair

us from the public, we must keep,
to keep what we have

our little secret, not even we have named
what to call this embryo, our acquaintance

what is the basis of it, or are we making art
nothing more

gathering ingredients to add to it
Vanilla Extract, Nutmeg, Cinnamon

what would sweeten life, lift the spirit
just a psalm or two to sing

what borders, what walls, like cell walls
can we not cross, cannot pass through

a love affair is a lot of work
what to put, to keep a secret in

jewelry box or in a coffin or in a poem

or in her, like a digger or like a sword in a sheath
to draw out when war breaks out

I've got a sword in my hand, I'm gonna use it well

is she empty for me when war is being waged
when I am unable to insert in it her

off to war, she wondering when I'd be coming home

are you coming to bed, she impatiently asks
tired of waiting, of deprivation
poetry as usual has my attention

her wish is that I focused upon making her come

instead I keep coming poems
making poems come

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
4:18 a.m. 13.11.09

2009-11-22T03:15:00.002-05:00

Rainy July Saturday
for Sonia Farmer

you were an amoeba once
when the time that you have lived
commenced, the other end
of the spool of thread

going on still, not yet at an end
but it has its beginning

place when and where it started
fascinating how you've grown
what you've grown into

complex, mindboggling
how many million times
what an amoeba weighs

how much more complex and at once
as simple, as well fashioned,
as well functioning

animal with a nucleus, a food vacuole
we have a diet, an alimentary canal

body up against mine once, one rainy day
in the Mercedes, in the back seat

you and me and someone
you up against me

afterthought to slip in back with us
most convenient thing to do in the down pour
in deep water on Bay Street

boyfriend at the wheel, impatient it seemed
at how close we were, how close we seemed

close enough to argue, to be cross with you
you cross with me

then entirely unexpected
thrust up against each other

white as dough almost
yet not dough at all
but done and warm

like some treat, ready to eat, ready to bight into
or break off piece

I wanted piece of you that rainy day
wanted all of you

you returned after the rain that evening
I was reading, would not have missed it
for the world

there to listen, as determined as I was
not to miss it for the world

was that the evening I read
with Lynn and Helen

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
2:44 p.m. 22.11.09

2009-11-21T01:58:00.003-05:00

Stairs Trays Drinks
for Chelsa

i.
what a sweet girl
makes the world a nicer place

desire less to leave
think of this earth as home
with her eyes to look into
when we are wrapped up in embrace
and in another

warm, wonderful moments
you wish would not end
but go on and on

imagine being in bed with her
horizontal us, naked us

it would be Christmas
every day, every night

I’d sign to have her, to keep her

enough for me
to make me and to keep me happy

awake would be like a dream
life would be a fruit tree

full of ripe fruit to pick and pick
and eat and eat

ii.
what if it sucks
verse attempt

worthy or unworthy of her
what I am, who I am, what I write

what if my art and I were all wrong
nothing to her

what though does she celebrate
is she happy about when she sees
little old me

reacts as if I were somebody
treated by so many like no body

humiliated to the dust underneath
the soles of feet

she elevates me, what does she see
think, feel

or what might she have been told
of who I am or of what I’ve done

no one special,
how I am mostly made to feel
I see how she sees me
and I imagine reassessing my worth
what love is it

without end requiring Eros
to feel validated

love that’s charity, that’s sympathy
is but pity to me

want to be desirable, irresistible
want hugs when we meet to mean

we can, with clothes off,
hug in bed as well, roll about

embrace me with and within all four limbs

inside her I could discharge
to thy kingdom come

want this sort of love
to exist between us

want her to be my woman,
me to be her man

paint and putty to purchase
Christmas coming

varnish I’d need too
house to repair, to spruce up

without her at home, living alone
I’d not need to lift a finger

against a spider or to clear away webs
or to tear them down

wish I had her to inspire me
and to motivate the man in me
eager to do for a woman

how extra special she is

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
Written between 8:45 p.m. Friday,
November, 20 and 1:05a.m.,
Saturday, November 21, 2009

2009-11-20T03:31:00.001-05:00

Screw the Cover Off
for Z.P.A.

I wan write one poem
‘bout your pussy

daring me
I is man, you is woman

words to match
word match

with a man I'd have a sword
with my woman, another contest

in Dangerous Liaisons
two fighters duel to the death

older fighter, older of two men
who loved one woman,

injured, bleeding, dying in snow
sword thrust into him

love is like that, like this
draws blood

drawn swords or diggers

or stiff dick to fuck you with
jook you, stick you,
prick to prick you with

what is clear comes from us
is produced

saliva, mucus, semen shooting,
oozing

shouts for joy
which can produce birth

fuck shot, cock shot, gun shot
and death can occur

one can fall and bleed
leave blood here and there

love, and sheets left wet, left wrinkled
hot shot inside you

Gin and Scotch and Brandy
horses I'd ride into you on
ride right through you on

galloping in your blood
galloping towards an egg

hit it with a polo mallet
across a green field

men after it to own it
I in hot pursuit to have it

boiled or scrambled
sunny-side-up or with it
make an omelet

sauces, juices
from your pussy to dress it
to season it

what do you wish
along with my dick
to do with my dick

you promise you'd suck it
and to sit on it, shake on it

until you howled like coyote
on a full moon night
to the full moon light

I am after all
able to reach the moon

scoop of ice cream atop a cone
for us to lick together
until it was wasted
though not a drop of it was

dick head for you to lick
clitoris for me to lick

until you fainted and I fainted

both in need of smelling salts
who will bring the bottle

who will screw the cover off
what if we never came to

you'd have died for me
I'd have died for you

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
2:10 a.m. 20.11.09

2009-11-16T04:40:00.002-05:00

Desk Top
for D.A.

these icons on my computer screen
should have been all you were wearing

even then I might have complained
that the lace of these were obscuring too much

grey T-shirt and white shorts between you and me
icons like another curtain, another veil

these icons and your elaborate bedhead
against which you lean, two layers you stand between

wall behind the elaborate, wooden bedhead,
another backdrop

little that you wear, your bedhead, your wall
lavender coat of paint upon it,
are all thin pages with you in between

but you’re not thin, not flat
woman, healthy, fleshy, enticing to look at

imagine touching, holding, lifting, being held
imagine your legs, like arms, about me
about my waist in an embrace

flat screen, layers of flatness, you among them
butterflies flattened among pages of a book

arms like wings, wide, rest upon the bedhead,
comfortably, upon the curve of it, wide arc of it

wide arc of it, opening for metal ornamentation
parallel arc, 6 inches wide

at your back, just above and just below your belly button
exquisite place, left years ago
upon being disconnected from mama

time draws near to connect with me or some man
for life to go on, to link the past to the rest of time

past and future, pull of these, you in between them
you on the screen, icons on the screen
and what you wear between us

skin off a mango, use my teeth to peel it
to get at the meat of it, the meal of it

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
2:27 a.m. 03.11.09

2009-07-16T03:31:00.002-04:00

Two Sides of A Skirt
for D.A.

how can I help but let my eyes fall,
eyes follow arms, to hands, to skirt

to the split in it, you close swift
wrestle with, to avoid revealing
bare thighs

was it the intention of darting eyes
is it usually or always

to glimpse what hands try to hide
to beat you to it as it were
get to peep free, a free peek

a pretty woman’s flesh, a patch of it
snatch of it, enough to sweeten,
to spice a life

enough to put in blandness, to eliminate it
like sugar in tea, or honey in tea
or like nutmeg in cream of wheat

no end to collecting inside the senses
what might reverse a sense of isolation
or of exclusion

two sides of a skirt, of her skirt
to close like a curtain

I want to be inside the room with her
when she shuts the world out
to undress, to bare her breasts

address her with kisses, a dress of kisses

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
4:12 a.m. 10.07.09

2009-11-14T21:52:00.002-05:00

Steps To skip Up
for Z.P.A.

my desire is to get somewhere,
to get where I’m going
your music’s getting me no where

on your bus, desire, aim to get to town
I’d get off your bus, I’d walk, I’d wait
but I’m late, friend from long ago to meet

your music, instead of getting me somewhere
is keeping me back, pulling me back

in the way of the flapping of my mind’s wings

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
2:10 p.m. 13.11.09