Modern poetry collection by the contemporary Cleveland poet Steven B. Smith
Reading Room #1 11 poems
Past Lies and Poverty
Old wonders shrink, grow tame in time
The new fear hangs on
In quiet desperation, quit of desire
Like the shadow of a crowded
Culture in which each
Declare their innocence
In straight unfocused silence
It is there
The smell of unwashed
Dishes smug in the stench of our
Unclean shame
Like a salesman's underbreath
Fishy, stale
The deep teal, the tiled resonance
It aint age.
It ain't sex.
It ain't race, religion, height,
gender, color, class or learning.
It's path, progress and position.
The road not not taken.
Be here now.
Hear now
o eyes unseeing
o ears unearned.
We're all perfect potential
cept maybe republicans, lawyers,
the true organized crime called police
the true whores called priests.
You can walk on water IF water wants.
Just ask.
Walk willing.
There ain't no dark night's ungentle light.
Ain't nothing outside but lies.
But even lie true ain't for you.
Walk within.
Don't need no god.
No catholic pimp pushing blood feast.
My lie's mine.
Walk my own walk.
Fuck the talk.
Grasshoppers gone wrong become ants.
Bad ants cry uncle, cry wolf, cry baby.
Goats goad sacrifice to sun.
Ritual requires repetition, release.
Nothing stays river's run
but drought's dry dirt
(and river still runs).
Rub your ears together.
Start a fire.
Flesh alarm.
Let gone go.
Lock lip.
Your nipple
Though we've yet to meet
Must surely seek to touch
My tongue's erectile tissue
Which seeks south to nether musk
Past inward looking navel
Which wise in eastern ways
When rocked in western rhythm
Knows what in maya may
Be only sleek illusion
Wonders reaped and sown
In peaks before the valley
Down treasure's traveled road
Where promise wraps forgiven
Its penis premised trap
Where truth in life is hidden
And minor deaths enact
Their furtive nightly burden
When joy it should be danced
And future fears forgiven
Like past purveyed by chance
Your eyes so solemn watching
Your lips promised pursuit
Your soul silent searching
Your heart no kindness fused
To form for wanting giving
To life its lift and shine
My love it spurts in wanting
Your flesh your spirit wine
Within your skin whenever
Blessings cross my brow
Profane in sacred wanting
Pure light enough for now
But o o unknown nipple
O mind of supple bliss
O soul unsullied, simple
On me bestow your kiss
The gods died.
But for the fish
We brought them back.
Returned mortality
To the horse's eyes,
Gods to antique brass.
My voice raised
In bell and chime,
Laughter light on lip.
Small signs of logic pool to larger sockets,
Sprocket rules of flow.
Autumn snap cracks cross
Yes no boundary, now then grime
And the even Steven myth.
Add in
Coffee rotation
Bee pollen white crystal
Hotel Babylon
One million years TV
Suburban life halfsounds
Fungus eyes
Hotdogs with blood and pus
Artists of perpetual perception
Fat bottom womyn in glass bottom boats
Nature and man gone wrong
And this war of little mist
And reefer sticks
Stones
The two soul sham
Of wham baam action ma'am
(long way virgin slim to glass ceiling fan).
This bad boy business nuzzles
Nose near own navel lint
Bug belly blood in amber
Waves of shame
Dinosaur dreg dynamo hum
Blood rough ready rumble
Reflecting clone,
Trade in tiny tins.
Liberty's filthy whore Profit
Loss enough for now.
Whethered Would
Old uneasy cockroach coexistence
Exilic, yet extant
Contingencies of space and time
Dog week later in kitchen pouring
Coffee into my veins with a dull cup
A daze of morals and Moses
Whines and Rosicrucians
It's raining cats and gods
And I am a fine unman
