Author Archives: Peter

Open City declared Peter Nolan Smith an underground punk legend of the 1970s East Village. The New England native spent many years as a nightclub doorman in New York, Paris, London, and Hamburg. The constant traveler has lived for long periods of time in Europe and the Far East. After a forced retirement from the Schmatta trade in Thailand, Peter Nolan Smith returned to New York to work in the international diamond trade. At summer’s end he resumed the life of a writer. The world’s leading leisureologist is currently based in Sri Racha, Thailand, Fort Greene, Brooklyn, and Luxembourg City. He has no address.

Lost In Lille 2011

Lost In Lille 2011 After the Chunnel Night Luxembourg bound Porsche Boxer The Ambassador behind the wheel Moi Un passenger Through the North of France Flat Same as Belgium Jacques Brel’s Le plat pays qui est a mienne. Eyes shut Still seeing the flatness Safe on the Autoroute The ambassador behind the wheel Luxembourg three […]

Trouville France – 1985

In the summer of 1985 Candia and I took the train to Deauville for a vacation from Paris. Deauville itself was out of our budget, so we stayed in the neighboring town, Trouville or ‘city of a hole’. The weather was pleasant and we might have gone swimming during the day. The first night I […]

La Ruche Petite Dejeuner 1985

A rainy morning Impasse de Danzig La Ruche The gray morning light lays as an allure On your bare skin My hand glides up your divine spine To rest beneath an angel wing shoulder. Heartbeat steady My fingers memorize the eternity of your youth. This touch will last forever. I think___ The door opens Your […]

HoJos Hot

1971 I was hitchhiking out out of Boston to the South Shore after the closing of the bars. I was picked up by a youngish couple, who drove south with the woman between us in the front seat. It was a warm night and the man pulled into a highway HoJos to buy ice cream, […]

White Condo Fog

An April overcast overwhelms A white luxury condo O’er Jay Street Brooklyn Obscuring the upper floors Earth warm Sky cold My fingers chilled Not by Winter But by the damp of Spring. The new season One month in My joints ache in the damp Old Some of me My mind 15 1967 Ruby Tuesday The […]