Invisible Sun
December 19, 2008
My humanity’s skin
Fits me.
I am its strengths
Its weaknesses.
From a childhood
Of secrets,
Being good,
Invisible, the good girl-
Comes this ability-
To see and hear,
To not be seen,
To be the observer.
Yet, in the hidden
Corners lies danger.
The soul risks slow submersion
When hidden in the dark.
When the good girl
Becomes the grounding,
The listener, the receiver,
Obscured from the light,
Death begins its
Slow creep.
Innocuously, like
Mitosis, splitting
The self from
Self, light, and air.
It is insidious and
It is death.
She becomes a secret.
She becomes the lie.
She becomes others lies.
She becomes invisible.
Turning towards the
Dungeon’s door,
The tearing of tectonic
Magnitude, she walks away,
Into the light.
kimsmith
Dancing in the Sunshine
Prince of Darkness
November 10, 2008
Steven Gelberg
Prince Of Darkness
My place is of the sun and this place is of the dark
I do not feel the romance I do not catch the spark
I don’t know when I noticed life was life at my expense
The words of my heart lined up like prisoners on a fence
The dreams came in like needy children tugging at my sleeve
I said I have no way of feeding you, so leave
But there was a time I asked my father for a dollar
And he gave it a ten dollar raise
When I needed my mother and I called her
She stayed with me for days
And now someone’s on the telephone, desperate in his pain
Someone’s on the bathroom floor doing her cocaine
Someone’s got his finger on the button in some room
No one can convince me we aren’t gluttons for our doom
But I tried to make this place my place
I asked for Providence to smile upon me with his sweet face
But I’ll tell you
My place is of the sun and this place is of the dark
I do not feel the romance I do not catch the spark
My place is of the sun and this place is of the dark
(By grace, my sight grows stronger and I will not
be a pawn for the Prince of Darkness any longer)
Maybe there’s no haven in this world for tender age
My heart beat like the wings of wild birds in a cage
My greatest hope my greatest cause to grieve
And my heart flew from its cage and it bled upon my sleeve
The cries of passion were like wounds that needed healing
I couldn’t hear them for the thunder
I was half the naked distance between hell and heaven’s ceiling
And he almost pulled me under
Now someone’s on the telephone desperate in his pain
Someone’s on the bathroom floor doing her cocaine
Someone’s got his finger on the button in some room
No one can convince me we aren’t gluttons for our doom
I tried to make this place my place
I asked for Providence to smile upon me with his sweet face
But I’ll tell you
My place is of the sun and this place is of the dark
I do not feel the romance I do not catch of spark
My place is of the sun and this place is of the dark
(By grace my sight grows stronger, grows stronger)
I do not feel the romance I do not catch the spark
(And I will not be a pawn for the Prince of Darkness any longer)
I am going to sing this song in my sleep. I am going to see the sun. I am going to let pain flow through. I am going to be free with privacy but relieve myself of secrets. I will no longer be a secret. I will be.
Kim
Stationery
October 22, 2008
Accordionist For Alpine Wedding Riffleber Switzerland
The
moon did not become the sun.
It
just fell on the desert
in
great sheets, reams
of
silver handmade by you.
The
night is your cottage industry now,
the
day is your brisk emporium.
The
world is full of paper.
Write
to me.
Agha
Shahid Ali
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You
October 22, 2008
John Running Salina Old Farmhouse Northern Arizona Salina
I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.
I love you only because it’s you the one I love;
I hate you deeply, and hating you
Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see you but love you blindly
Maybe January light will consume
My heart with its cruel
Ray, stealing my key to true calm.
In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.
Pablo Neruda
Making a Statement David J Nightingale
Fire
April 21, 2008
Gold Nude
I am fire
in the water
falling over
the air
that breathes me,
annihilates me.
Dividing me,
divining me
from the
fog that
held me
once.
Now I
swim in
flames screaming
truths
I cannot hear
the sound inside me;
its silence
overwhelms me.
kimsmith
Flaming Love
I Knew I Hurt
April 21, 2008
I ate the food;
Drank the drink,
I knew I hurt.
Took the pill,
Kept the job,
I knew I hurt
Did the therapy
Talked words~
I knew I hurt
Stinging words
Did not know.
I knew I hurt
I made friends
Who held me close
I knew I hurt
I loved him
The present absence
I knew I hurt
Sumptuously I cooked
Fed with love
I knew I hurt
I heard their music
I played in looks
I knew I hurt
Not me,
I whispered
I knew I hurt
I worked hard~
I said healing!
I knew I hurt
I loved the one,
Dancing in time.
I knew I hurt
Struggling in the fray,
Fucking in the moments~
I knew I hurt
But, I did not know
Knowing.
One night
Someone came.
Seeing me,
Speaking my
Truth
Ripped through
My Soul
Curled up fetal
On the bed
I knew I hurt
Through the opening
Wind howls
Abrading the hurt
With caresses
That ached
And stung
And bristled
And rebelled~
Till silence
Held me close.
kimsmith
Street Abandon
Then I Met You (AKA Kim Is In Love)
April 21, 2008
Then I Met You
Thought that I’d be happy
Going to be so happy
Living life alone and never sharing anything
Thought that I was finished
Thought that I was complete
Thought that I was whole instead of being half of something
Thought that I was growing
Growing older, wiser
Understanding why this world held nothing for my spirit
Thought that I was destined
Destined to be nothing
Destined to be nothing in this world and then I met you.
I met you
Thought that God had failed me
Thought my prayers were useless
Thought that he would never give the chance for me to praise him
Thought the book was written
Thought the game had ended
Thought the song was sung and I could never sing another
Thought my faith was misplaced
Thought my back was broken
Broken by a weight that I was never fit to carry
Thought I knew this city
Thought I knew all about it
And then one night I went to Morningside and you were waiting
I met you
The Proclaimers
Touch
August 19, 2007
Blood of Eden
Original Photography:
Painting:
Touch
is
but
the
thread
we
see.
kimsmith
august 2007
Prayer Tablet
Nikko, Japan
The Rape
Search Engines Terms: How did you find me? What was your search?
I am fucking pissed.
If I see one more search phrase stating child erotica I am going to go hunting.
The photos I post of children are of how I see myself, of all children who deserve safety and wellness. They are my memories. They are why we need art, they show us ourselves. Artists are crucial for this. They tell our stories.
I am not here to tell any damn stories for injured relational sexuality.
I am here to say that I am not in control of the universe.
I was not in control of my friend Amanda’s bi-polar, existential, alcoholic, survivor pain or her death. I was not in control of my friend Leah’s childhood where her twin sister experienced her life as she did, a life ending with a swan dive. She took the bridge path. Yea, she is dead too.
So, this is all morbid or is it? Death is another stage. I am good with groovy godliness.
I post photos of children for the beauty of each and every one of our children, internally and externally.
My favorite is by Steven Gelberg. I see myself in her eyes and hiding behind that big leaf. I see my cave child self, now and then.
I do not want fucking trapped in the darkness of soul injured compulsion finding my blog by searching such words. Words that have never been posted here until now which means somewhere in the universe someone found Steven’s souful child photo and showed me that I am not in control of the freakin’ universe.
And, please, do not get me wrong. This is not hate, this is anger which is pain. Pain for those who are bound in some dark place where only such a search gives them what they seek. I am not hateful, I am pissed. And, sad. And, empowered. And hurt by the hurt. No one hurt me, no one did this to me, it just is.
Fairies Are Real
May 2, 2007
From Women in Landscape Series
Steven Gelberg
I have a fairy in my life.
Her name is Mary; she is 11, tall, thin, with a face like truth. We fell in love a year a go and over time our connection flowers. Any time her mother comes to the college she promptly tells her, “I am going to see Kim.”
She thinks like a soul of infinite years. She is direct, flighty, is not a morning person but once she awakens she never stops expressing. I have to tell her to stop talking when I know I am not listening or have to do something in that moment. She cooperates and smiles as she does it.
She is an imp. I took her home after she spent her first weekend with me and we took the grand tour of her neighborhood. In the middle of intersections she said, while pointing, “Turn here.” Looking at her, I said, “Is this the grand tour of your neighborhood?” “Yes’, she said.
I then said,” Mary, repeat after me: I promise I will never be a navigator.” “I promise I will never be a navigator Kim.”
When it was time for me to go home her mother said to me, “Now you know how to get our of here, right?” “Hardly”, I said looking at Mary laughing.
I have a habit of stating my age aloud, as I wonder about myself and how to coalesce time with thoughts, perceptions and actions. I often hear, “You are not that old!” While drinking our hot chocolate and espresso, walking to a performance, somehow it was logical to ask her how old she thought I was. “52”, she said. I said, “Excuse
me? No one has ever said I look older than I am!” She promptly said to me, “ That’s because you pressure them by asking!” She never hesitates. She is a miracle, human, fantastic, fallible, brilliant, exceptionally visually creative, and down right whimsical in a way that only speaks in love.
Today I was out in the courtyard taking a break. I looked left and there she was, running to me, her family behind her, and without hesitation she hugged me.
This is living.
Gracious Galileo Smith
Photographers: Her Parents
