Wrestling Starting Position

Wrestling Starting Position
One on top, one on bottom

Thursday, December 8, 2016

December 2016

Wrestling Starting Position is available now on Amazon as a trade paperback and eBook. My author page: Amazon.com/author/winthropsmithpoet 

Wednesday, December 30, 2015


My Thanks:
-To the wrestler, who allowed me the use of his wrestling blog about his matches.
-To wrestlers, and their coaches, for talking about the sport that they love.
-To 'The Ultimate Fighter' teams for honestly telling, and showing it.
-To witnesses, who wrestle with, yet still report what they see so clearly.
-To reporters, who do that so well.
-To the late painter Patrick Angus, who shared his world, and his art, so generously.
-To Douglas Blair Turnbaugh, who made sure that we could see Patrick's work.
-To Lars G. Petersson, for 'Musterung: Staatlich legitimierte Perversion.'
-To Zack Peercy, a UMaine computer wizard who swooped in and did everything that I hadn't been able to do, resulting in the publication of this blog.
-To gay men who write personal ads, wrestling with their starting positions.
This book, which is a journey, would not have been possible without all of you.

Wednesday, August 12, 2015


Wrestling Starting Position is a book length poem, told in parts, starting, and ending, in Maine, while traveling back to growing up in Rye, NY, 1960's, the paintings and subject matter of Patrick Angus, NYC, late 1980's, through lives, and deaths, personal ads, musterung/physical examinations, capital punishment, to wrestling, with its basic starting over, and starting positions. You can see photographs of musterung: musterung.tumblr.com

Published titles, available on Amazon, include: Ghetto: From the First Five; The Weigh-In; Skin Check: New York Poems. My email: mainepoet@gmail.com Copyright © 2016 by Winthrop Smith

Thursday, July 2, 2015


Hard loss scars you, but toughens,
Lost key matchups, prepared for
It, but injury, sickness,
Wrestling starting position;

Muscles swollen door, hobbles
Wood floor, banister grabbed, he
Hauls up, flight after flight, to
Attic, emptied of contents;

Feeling isolated here,
Friend to write to? I go to
Movies rarely, my Godson
Visits, 'til the next girlfriend;

Greet, turned couplings, the town's news
Served, digested, a prophet
Warns, repeats, then remembrance
Savored, black as it pours out;

Heel toe, stumble, propelling,
Up sit stairs, passing empty
Floors to small room with closed door,
Dollhouse built out from rafters;

Feel like couldn't compete, I'm
Not so active, I use a
Cane, sciatica, well past
Sell by date, better watcher;

Standing three feet, girl crayons
Girl, with red bird's head, red shoes,
Blue dress, under the staircase,
Knowing someone will find her;

12 August 2015
12 February 2016

Monday, June 22, 2015


Your friend, your enemy: the
Scale, the diet, the weight loss,
Lower weight class, feel stronger,
Gaining, starving, repeating;

Ezra, forty-one, flanked by
Tom, retired, decipher
Paragraphs' destinations;

Not what seventy looks like,
Energy someone twenty,
There's a crowd, then I'm running
Toward it, buzzed, in shape;

Locals- men- long retired,
Push the tables together
Claiming seats, as accustomed,
Mugs of coffee, their baked goods;

Single file, for his stepchild,
Ezra musters the words, her
Eyes absorbed by each static
Picture, his by incursions;

End of, bear going polar,
Why here? Don't seem to fit in
Anywhere, anymore, it's
Old age, dry rot, dry humor;

Priest, in starch stiff black, bleached, blued
White, confronts his mill workers,
Incense, Polish, in rawness,
Warp and weft's unseen netting;

Tuesday, June 16, 2015


Saw he had it, then proved it,
Dove in, leveraged weight, got
Pushed, I saw it, just coming
Short, just not enough time;

Actor, paycheck to paycheck,
Leading role, from a life drawn,
Mugging, flooded apartment,
Heart attack, at age sixty;

Basic needs, with some complex
Thoughts, and not much which scares me,
Sometimes selfish in sex, but
Sometimes generous, speak up!

Fifty, failing, congestive
Heart, (Jon's) body on E.R.
Stretcher, waiting for transplant,
Tim's heart beats on in Jon's chest;

Stoic, makes do with odd jobs,
Grabbed parts, Daniel doffs fraying,
Patchwork coat, draping father's,
Strides, commanding, toward run's end;

Never jealous: impulsive,
Frugal, realises risks,
Won't waste time, been around, yet
Optimistic, pragmatic;

Slow, albino spine, bent down,
Lifts, the cowering leaves spread,
Roots thread, ruthless in turf war's
Subjugation from thinning;

Monday, June 8, 2015


Just a scrap all the way through,
Always comes to his feet, he'll
Find a wrist, and then make his
Move, but sometimes ends backside;

Tyler, card table sign-up,
Taps an unmet need: curbside
Service, picking up food waste,
Feeding dump when he backs up;

Young at 70, look and
Act much younger, I've been there,
Did that, have a sling, living
Modestly, like to stay home;

One hit silences thoughts at
Twenty-five, leaving body,
Body's name, (Tim), the organ
Donor checked off on license;

Keeps the loads hot, removes the
Pieces, captures what comes out,
Darkest chocolate, spread on
Fields as garbage to garden;

Little overweight, hair was
Brown, but graying, have tattoos,
Piercings, still have a wild side,
Not as bad as it was though;

Peonies press up outside
Mudroom, iris form street side
Oval, lilacs send runners,
Still, forsythia, branches;