Smith poems

“3:15 A.M., Wednesday, March 15th, 2006”

I hear
panicked words in foreign tongues
and stare
down a blaze ten stories high
and feel
the hot flare of purpose
and run
against the thrust of the crowd
and choke
on ash and adrenaline
and stop
only when I reach your door.







“Apparitions”

The fire left a stain
on the steel, on the shattered
glass twisting sideways, so
unnatural, such a bastardization
of the sun-drenched, shining, smiling
faces and tan bodies once dancing,
once screaming ecstasy, now
suddenly silent, nothing seems worth
saying, the stench of ash and confusion will not
leave my side, will not
be gone when I open my eyes,
so we roar on like a wounded mammal
swimming towards a foreign shore.

Readers Record
“Simile and Metaphor”

1) “One difference between good and not-so-good poets is that the good ones recognize when they’ve written stuff that deserves to be dumped, and load up the truck.” (p. 95)
2) “Coming closer, he turns out
to be you – or nearly.
Once you lose someone it is never exactly
The same person who comes back.” (p. 96)
3) “Michiko is dying in the house behind me,
the long windows open so I can hear
the faint sound she will make when she wants
watermelon to such or so I can take her
to a bucket in the corner of the high-ceilinged room
which is the best we can do for a chamber pot.” (p. 98)
4) “How many lives ago
Was that? How many choices?” (p. 100)
5) “Just have patience, and keep digging.” (p. 101)

Readers Record
“Images”

1) “Images are not quite ideas, they are stiller than that, with less implications outside themselves” (p. 85)
2) “And when they find him, his mouth, his throat, his lungs
Full of the gold that took him, he lies still, not seeing the world” (p. 87)
3) “I peeled my oranges
That was so bright against
The gray of December
That, from a distance,
Someone might have thought
I was making fire with my hands” (p. 90)
4) “Nothing. Not the small sound my sister makes, turning
Over, not the thump of the dog’s tail

When he opens one eye to see him stumbling back to bed
Still drunk, a little bewildered.” (p. 91)

5) “You cannot turn your back upon a dream, / for phantoms have their reasons when they come.” (p. 90)

“Zen & Violence”
Tiny bubbles multiply on the surface of my skin
Then wash away, winding down the drain.
The gentle back and forth of palm against palm
Leaves no trace. No mark
Save for the scars I’ve collected
In twenty-two years of Zen and violence.

Memory: the thief, the coward
Won’t let me forget, won’t let me remember.
Won’t draw a straight line for me to walk
So I wander, I stumble
From landmark to landmark.
And I find no reason
No reason at all.








“Like Animals Do”
She burrows down into the darkness of my sheets
Like a dung beetle clawing into the earth
She goes deep inside and dares me to follow
So I dig in deeply, warmth finding warmth
And breathe only when she lets me
Holding on for dear life

It was Independence Day when I saw her
Selling snake oil to the credulous
Bright green leaves wrapped in yellow tissue paper
Her face was a memory from my future
Though I didn’t know it then
We were soon-to-be, we were never-to-be
Insects in a web we could not see
So when the ground opened up and all the sinners fell through
We dug deep into each other
Holding on for dear life

Readers Record
“The Music of the Line”

1) “In other words, there is a momentary silence, and as musicians know, silence is an integral part of music.” (p. 105)
2) “We real cool. We
Left school. We
Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We
Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We
Jazz June. We
Die soon.” (p. 107)
3) “through it all when I’d cling beside you sobbing
you’d shrug it off with the quietest I’m still
here” (p. 111)
4) “Be careful that you don’t become so enamored of what a line break can do that you begin using it as a clever trick, rather than a technique to serve your poem.” (p. 112)
5) “There are no real rules for line breaks.” (p. 105)