tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81601038034327637142024-03-13T23:10:39.912-07:00Uncle WillieWillie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-80225650957645656592012-07-03T19:04:00.001-07:002012-07-03T19:04:42.501-07:00Uncle Willie at the Hop Vine<a href="https://vimeo.com/44709167">https://vimeo.com/44709167</a>Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-7367555131282469932012-05-29T19:34:00.003-07:002012-05-29T19:34:41.549-07:00Paul Kavanagh reviews NOTHING DOINGPaul Kavanagh weighs in on NOTHING DOING: <a href="http://www.fictionuncovered.co.uk/review/">http://www.fictionuncovered.co.uk/review/</a>Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-11623832406328107932012-05-28T10:16:00.002-07:002012-05-28T10:16:43.800-07:00NOTHING DOING sampleSample of Uncle Willie reading from recently released story collection NOTHING DOING: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/wsmith49">www.youtube.com/wsmith49</a> .Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-8080280025109737052012-04-28T23:19:00.001-07:002012-04-28T23:19:09.223-07:00NOTHING DOING<a href="http://www.honestpublishing.com/blog/loss-of-a-pet-willie-smith/#more-3502">http://www.honestpublishing.com/blog/loss-of-a-pet-willie-smith/#more-3502</a>Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-54532689314539021262012-03-20T07:03:00.000-07:002012-03-20T07:03:01.645-07:00RESISTING THE PAINResisting the pain: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/MadSwirl/posts/163641143756647">http://www.facebook.com/MadSwirl/posts/163641143756647</a>Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-85742579578193605052012-01-29T11:28:00.000-08:002012-01-29T11:28:57.850-08:00SEATTLE SNOWFour inches of the white stuff paralyze Jet City!<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">NAME FOR MYSELF</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Go for a walk in the snow. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Find the bike trail. Crunch </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">my prints into the smooth glare. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Duck, after a mile or so, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">behind a fir. Unzip three layers. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Sign, with the willie pen, my name. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Hear the hiss. Watch the steam. Smell </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">the coffee. Radio claimed, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">thanks to coming rain, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">all by tomorrow melted.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Zip back up. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Back on the trail. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Trudge another mile or so </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">through the driven snow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-41423051436679493232012-01-19T12:25:00.000-08:002012-01-19T12:25:13.773-08:00THE END OF JOY<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">FIRST OLD FLAME TO DIE</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took her in the ass because she asked me to. And because I was curious, actually enjoyed the novelty. As did – or so it seemed – she. Her way of asking: “Ever put this in a woman’s ass?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cleared my throat. Let a few seconds drift, as if reflecting… “Once or twice.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She shrugged, disappointment evident; she obviously eager to deflower. I should have lied. Given her the triumph.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today I learn she died six months ago. Cancer. Fifty-six. All those cigarettes. All that love. But now she has taken, at least in one sense, my virginity; as I take the news up the ass of my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-4658779284124959382012-01-15T09:52:00.001-08:002012-01-15T09:52:11.762-08:00JOY WAR<h1 style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">JOY WAR</span></h1><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Joy wore see-through – nipples visible as bulls in china rubble. Throughout the war, Joy wore see-through.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>True to an arrow. Honest with a sling. Ducks wholly in a row. She wore on her finger a lingering of the onions she kissed enough to mince in her sleep; as the war wore on.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I round the point. The wind tears tears from the eye. So Joy sews sorrow<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>borrowed from the dead. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Joy wails through the wind: Come inside, now you see through. Then whispers: The grass <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i> greener on the suicide.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Joy combats bats; daubs cheek to tongue. Claws till the flying mice dash echoes in a mirrored cell, to sell the flip of their flop. Joy goes to bat for going bats for the euphoria of the sheer hell of swing. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Joy springs well-versed in universe. Because before, when justice on a tear tore, her heart ran just ice; for everywhere Joy’s heart wears in the blood war.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The world was indeed done in a day; done in and done in a day. But like the drunk of Noah has no end, no point; only joy; and the war wore on; and on wore the war, when Joy wore see-through.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div>Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-73987285518253079962012-01-12T13:50:00.000-08:002012-01-12T13:50:17.440-08:00The Sex Of JoyPeople tend to call this my "sailing" poem. Most of my poems sail straight into the waste can, sometimes making a brief stopover at the canary cage. But his one has stuck with me for almost half a century now. It's posted in various places on the net. First appeared in print in LOON magazine in 1978:<br />
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<h1 style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">BACK HOME</span></h1><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">We sit crosslegged in the tub.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">We’ve been three days sailing on the Sound</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">and are pleasantly exhausted.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I soap my face</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">and Joy begins shaving me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It takes all the concentration</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I can muster to keep from smiling</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">so she can shave around my lip.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Remembering the low swift boat</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">rolling over the waves</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I watch Joy’s brown eyes as</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">they focus on the small swipes</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">that leave my face clean and smooth.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I keep my lips even,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">but her smile rises and fades</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">with every pass of the blade.</span></div>Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-36408187218393398852012-01-11T14:40:00.000-08:002012-01-11T14:40:47.480-08:00LETTER TO MY THIRD EXMy alphabet sports three ex's. Joy was by far the most remarkable, as well as the live-with lover I spent the least time with. Let's put her in the fucklight here for a couple days. Fear not: the wench is dead, even though it was in this same country:<br />
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<h1 style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">LETTER TO MY THIRD EX</span></h1><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sitting in this flop with a picture of you, a chicken pot pie, gallon of Gallo and little else; watching cracks on the wall; hoarse cough nextdoor, the oldfart damn near dead from WWI wounds, dead wives, Bugler and even cheaper wine than I drink; upstairs the nineteen year old Krishna freak without a dime and lacking a brain, chanting muffled through the floor, which is my ceiling, plaster praying to be left alone and let fall and goddamn skidroad god letting the ceiling/floor have its way through slow pain, I love you, but understand why I left. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s hot here. One jammed window and it looks out five feet onto the brick of a sooty warehouse. Tattered oilcloth shade. Stink of gas now tinted with heating potpie. Steamheat permanently high. Landlady same.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She offers me an extra blanket whenever I pass her shadowy desk in the lobby. She once had a wino freeze to death, she says, and is terrified of death and all its concomitant responsibilities. Fusty creature, sticky booze on her lips. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, I have not fucked her yet. Nor anything else. Still jack off to your picture, or sometimes simply jingle the change in my pocket.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here the ceiling is high and obscure. Lamp by my creaky bed the only light. Forty watts of consolation. Still, some previous pervert managed to get way up and scrawl with lipstick or blood or beetshit a poem concerning the necessity of leaving your jane to go to war when your country has gotten into hot water. Sonofabitch even rhymes: war/whore, jane/pain, water/ ought to.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon the pot pie will be hot. I plan to eat it with a plastic fork. I am leaving you the silverware. I think it was yours anyway. All the rest is yours, too, and this letter. Send along another picture. I left because there was no longer any poetry to be found.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-90757866547229026262012-01-10T14:13:00.001-08:002012-01-10T14:13:48.044-08:00JUST ANOTHER HARDON POEM<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">LATE MARCH TWILIGHT</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Sue and me</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">on the ornamental cherry tree’s lower</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">swaying branches, fraught and</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">delicate with white blossoms, her chin</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">on my knee, a hardon</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">in my corduroy pants under her hand’s</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">pleasant tease.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Both our smiles</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">easy and slight.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Few words</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">pass; a breeze half</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">obliterates us among blossoms</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">and blossomy rustlings. </span></div>Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-80987339729044132062012-01-09T11:20:00.000-08:002012-01-09T11:29:27.834-08:0016MM VENUSBack in the 70s, when pterodactyls blotted the sky and Amazon meant a one-titted female warrior, there were, briefly, three unchallenged queens of porn, a Hecate-Artemis-Isis vaginal triumvirate, who dominated the scene in both 35MM high-production and 16MM loop: Abigail Clayton, Annette Haven and Leslie Bovee. Many a ganglion I wore into the back of my right hand furiously jerking to inner visualizations of these cinematic sisters of mercy. Yesterday I gave henna-ed Annette my best shot. Now here's one for the perhaps least well-known of the Titillating Trio, Abigail "The Blowing Blonde" Clayton:<br />
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<h1 style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">16MM VENUS 1973</span></h1><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She comes up out of the sea and she is all blond – she has lost her bikini; the shark of her smile took it. She reaches back. Wrings yellow hair in a wet mass. She wants to come over, primp, turn around – pray her ass be kissed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her eyes glint sea-green. Her breasts float large and gently sloped as distant breakers; nipples buoys; her bush surf white.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She straddles the screen. Between the crack of her butt you glimpse a sunsquint; close eyes to sniff the vision burst.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your throat detects encircling cigarettes and bad cigars, old coats, stale popcorn; knees cracking, torn leather seats creaking…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Open the eyes – to catch a last sneer, as she steers her posterior down over the mouth of the camera; while against the voice-box an unspittable lump has grown. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is all dark in the water you breathe.</span></div> Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-67491939181721984042012-01-08T09:56:00.000-08:002012-01-08T09:56:49.026-08:00THE PORNO STARNo day should be allowed to slip by unfucked. Here's my rut for the day:<br />
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<h1 style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">THE PORNO STAR</span></h1><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For Annette Haven</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">In sheer blouse,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">high heels, nylons and</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">skimpy skirt disclosing</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">the moving wonder of her thighs,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">she shakes henna hair</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">over a shoulder</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">and gets into the black chrome </span><city><place><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Lincoln</span></place></city><span style="font-size: 14pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">that drives off</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">to flash up to a </span><state><place><span style="font-size: 14pt;">California</span></place></state><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> mansion.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The chauffeur with so much class opens the door,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">before she swings out and the sun</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">spits her sunglasses and her lipstick</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">and she shakes</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">henna hair and walks</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">toward the mansion and the camera</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">adores her nylons</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">as high heels click on sun-drenched pavement.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">And inside that lovely </span><state><place><span style="font-size: 14pt;">California</span></place></state><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> mansion, surrounded by eucalyptus</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">and Norman Rockwell caricatures and a high oak-panelled high high ceiling,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">clothes gone, disappeared in a heap, gone somewhere off stage – </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">totally nude, with a tiny little gold chain</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">around her waist and red polish on her toenails</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">and purple polish on her fingernails,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">she fingers herself in a mirror</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">while the audience, hand in pants,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">bogs in lust never wanted ended</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">dead. </span></div>Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-89764794257537832622012-01-07T14:33:00.001-08:002012-01-07T14:33:29.868-08:00DER BINGLE<a href="http://www.honestpublishing.com/blog/der-bingle/#more-3035">http://www.honestpublishing.com/blog/der-bingle/#more-3035</a>Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-54353712099707849312011-12-10T16:31:00.000-08:002011-12-10T16:31:15.479-08:00HONEST PUBLISHING<a href="http://www.honestpublishing.com/news/nothing-doing-special-edition/">http://www.honestpublishing.com/news/nothing-doing-special-edition/</a>Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-8590125721763997592011-12-10T16:30:00.000-08:002011-12-10T16:30:20.701-08:00SPIDER FUCK<a href="http://www.corpse.org/archives/issue_9/ficciones/smith_willie.htm">http://www.corpse.org/archives/issue_9/ficciones/smith_willie.htm</a>Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-62581368168273138752011-12-10T16:29:00.001-08:002011-12-10T16:29:26.170-08:00SUBMACHINEGUN CONSCIOUSNESS<a href="http://www.semantikon.com/features/williesmith.htm">http://www.semantikon.com/features/williesmith.htm</a>Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-91832317291316419012011-12-10T16:28:00.001-08:002011-12-10T16:28:27.039-08:00FROM A DYING COCKROACH<a href="http://library.crisischronicles.com/2008/12/27/from-a-dying-cockroach-by-willie-smith.aspx">http://library.crisischronicles.com/2008/12/27/from-a-dying-cockroach-by-willie-smith.aspx</a>Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-19925943788553803392011-12-10T16:27:00.000-08:002011-12-10T16:27:19.260-08:00HANDGUNS<a href="http://www.evergreenreview.com/120/willie-smith-handguns.html">http://www.evergreenreview.com/120/willie-smith-handguns.html</a>Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-45825563398577150182011-12-10T16:17:00.000-08:002011-12-10T16:17:38.932-08:00NOTHING DOING SPECIAL EDITION<a href="http://www.honestpublishing.com/news/nothing-doing-special-edition/">http://www.honestpublishing.com/news/nothing-doing-special-edition/</a>Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-84120907266212663842011-12-10T16:14:00.001-08:002011-12-10T16:14:50.360-08:00SEEING GOD<a href="http://www.honestpublishing.com/blog/seeing-god/">http://www.honestpublishing.com/blog/seeing-god/</a>Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-10332593571747437482011-12-10T16:13:00.001-08:002011-12-10T16:23:23.437-08:00IN LINE<a href="http://www.honestpublishing.com/news/in-line/">http://www.honestpublishing.com/news/in-line/</a>Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8160103803432763714.post-1242578078175111002011-12-10T16:08:00.000-08:002011-12-10T16:08:28.764-08:00Willie on youtube<a href="http://www.youtube.com/wsmith49">www.youtube.com/wsmith49</a>Willie Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11762717402119322170noreply@blogger.com0