Poetry / Poets / Writers / Writing

Just Some Things You Say – by Bud Smith

No more poems
about girls
who don’t wear underwear
or waiting for a bus
that won’t ever come
or winter.
All day I thought
of a direct ride
to somewhere
other than here
I imagined
everlasting spring
and long-legged
deep-lunged girls
taking the stairs slowly
all the way past
purple clouds
spilling up
I slept on a bed
of every book
I’ve ever read
shredded down
softer than heather
with my record player
at less than arm’s length
and the radiator


Bud Smith grew up in New Jersey, and currently lives in Washington Heights, NYC with a metric ton of vinyl records that he bought at Englishtown flea market for a dollar. He is the author of the short story collection Or Something Like That (2012), and Tollbooth (Piscataway House 2013); he hosts the interview program The Unknown Show; edits at Jmww and Uno Kudo; works heavy construction in power plants and refineries. Currently, he’s probably watching My Cousin Vinny.


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