Venice beach man

i love the way you look at me

almond blue eyes laden with innocent sin

i love the way you steal a kiss from me

and sometimes hold me down

by my cat-like wrists

and tell me how you’ll take me

i love the texture of your ear

on my tongue rugged and sun burnt

crisped by the sea salt and the sand

i love to hear the song

of your primitive throat when you cum

i love how you scold me when i’ve had

one too many of the L36s

and i respect you

as a man who tells it how it is

with compassion while you grieve

for the slow motion death of my free spirit

at your service

i pluck a lullaby from notes that the wind makes

and i sing in la-la-la’s just for you

i pretend that the fellas can hear me too

as the warm sun makes me take off your old army shirt

hold on i got a text

but before i scroll on screens i loved your stories

of bayonets and the history channel’s gruesome blitzkriegs

and when you’d sit in the garage

crying hysterically like a heart broken woman

i would weep too by the old fig tree in the afternoons

why do we fight when we fight each other

and when we fight ourselves will the world be better off

room 5307

time marches like ants in a row

seconds stop to greet each other

disrupting the flow

blood swims in the veins

circulating with the aide

of medical hope all know is

just hollow

thoughts flicker in and out
off and on about all the things
universal in continuums of time

there are scratch marks

on the legs where the itch

laughs with determination

caverns in the deepness of the mind

thoughts some bland and some strong

demons torture with hallucinations

of what the heart despises more

the noise they make

those tendrils as they wrap

their wicked fingers round

the mind unquiet with grief

an LA woman

Pic by mbrazfield (c) 2019

im no different

i too bleed

i too drink

i too breath

i too think

i too speak

i can wear

a suit and

shiny diamond rings

i can fuck

a woman or

a man if

i want when

i want there

is plenty to

go around in

this town i

can steal beg

borrow die live

catch a disease

have a cock

sewn on or

my pussy stitched

shut i can

love and hate

worship and sin

i get tickets

and big debt

i can write

and wait tables

sell the story

make you cry

or laugh depending

on how i

feel about it

i too can

show passion for

the things that

make society gag

i can figure

things out for

myself and buy

a house and

marry three men

i can walk

the streets alone

very late at

night and see

the children writhing

engulfed in their

pain euphoric to

the all great

equalizer who comes

when she wants

only and claims

those who have

had no time

i can watch

sit back relax

or run scared

out of my

head from the

boogey man or

woman you can

be just as

oppressive baby don’t

tell me no

look in my

eyes my queen

i give you

a description of

your cloudy soul

i can fight

but there are

some things that

i will die

for and won’t

think twice about

it my freedom

my voice and

right to be

me not a

victim or a

trophy i refuse

to be shackled

by diagnosis political

label or join

the sorority of

hypocrisy and vanity

yes i am

a woman free

now i understand

when i got

called rock headed

it served to

break that glass

ceiling and shoot

me to the

infinate frontier of

my own agency

my own democracy

i follow my

drum and i

will share all

with my sisters

but i will

never apologize for

who i am

how i am

what i am

why i love

when i go

where i stand

in this anthem

i proclaim equality

…now sleep in it

in my age

i just learned

how good it

feels to wake

up in my

bed so warm

and soft and

inviting some say

it would feel

like the hug

of a mother

but in my

age this is

all i have

created by my

own unsure hand

greatwestern

the hospitals are the same all over i now believe except for the revolving doors everywhere and the river beautiful pigeons and other birds look like they were spit shined and then the river crossed on planks made of steal with tug boat Cadillacs full of salty earth the buildings tall old bones new skin i grin at the sun rays coming at me hard but the old grandfather wind swoops me from the light and in three hours it gets dark and i walk around the park and back to the clinical round of someone who knows nothing of anything beyond the cereal box patients waiting all the time looking tired worn out sucked down pulled up by the soul and sick of heart like the ladies looking out from the Amsterdam house mine eyes search for invisibility and the wolves follow me with teeth and i a fox in sheep’s skin look the other way i don’t want idolatry tonight the French baguette is hard and stale but i get it anyway i want to feel other than myself the urges come like thunder but then all of a sudden it dawns on me that i’m in Illinois and that Abe was a member of the Whig Party tears are salty anywhere we go and why in the fuck isn’t Pluto a planet

sunrise prayer while whistlin’ to Shonen Knife

Lord it’s me

Grady the Rh- monkey

tuesday morning

Chicago scene

eyes are watering

but it’s not the wind

i haven’t talked to You

like i think i should

just want to thank you

again and again

life flashing

on the right side of my brain

the train car rails

are really cool

if i had a stray thought

it’s all because

of the architectural allure

but i’m mouthin’ too much

arigato for all you’ve taken from me

arigato for all you’ve given me

arigato for all those whom i’ve battled

and for those who have kicked my ass

for all the ones i’ve hurt

and the things i’ve thrown away

thank you for the violence

and especially when peace runs through me

thank you for the fight

thank you for the lessons

thank you for this river

and the beggar by the bay

for the nature

and the phantoms in my bed

and thank you for looking down on me

when my demons ring my bell

at M. Wong’s

pink vapor rises

my feet grind to the wild song

we howl hard at love

dude’s stall politics

Pic by mbrazfield (c) 2019

a girl’s gotta

I hadn’t been to the Cecil for about four months. I was going solo-er than usual. I had a habit and I needed to hide it, but at the Cecil, that meant hanging with the big children; my habit had to hide me. That took some energy, but I was chalked up to not only falling through the cracks, but literally jumping off the deepest canyon; voluntarily and with pleasure.

Tiny tattoos started bleeding through my skin and sex hated me. My mind was random, my family really random, but as I got older, I figured God’s grace ushered me through.

Early on a Friday morning just before 2 p.m., I decided to go see if spare cock Amos was still living at the Cecil. I was supposed to be at college prep but it wasn’t interesting. Sitting anywhere for longer than 8.9 seconds was excruciating and my limbs just needed to move.

The bust stop bench in front of the hotel had been vandalized and some Mexican guys in orange vests were loading the pretzelled metal unto a Metro Services pick-up. One of the guys, a squared faced short legged man with spikey salt and pepper hair puckered his lips at me a few times, like when a dog really needed to take a shit. I looked down, noticed a lady bug on the left cuff of my sleeve and cupped it in my right hand.

She was deep brick red with tiny black spots. Slowly the hand uncupped. The chipped black nail polish on my hand mimicked her spots. I too puckered my lips, blew a kiss and Holly flew away. I named things and stuff.

The hotel lobby was worn down, the palm trees dried out and their pots ashy and clay like. The coupons dissected and plucked from the Times were neatly stacked on the concierge’s desk. I sat across an olive toned man who wore a sports jacket and Laker color biker shorts. I could see that his toes were mostly calcified with nail fungus. He asked my name as he offered his, Steponas. Francine, I reciprocated starring at his foam green flip flops.

Looking around Steponas scooted to the edge of his couch. His ass must have been sweaty on account of the screeching sound he made when scooting. I sat back deeper into my couch crossed my twig legs and swung my combat boot left to right. Steponas retrieved.

My attention got hijacked by a loud drag queen coming down the stairs, but she wasn’t spare cock. She was just really pissed off. Apparently she contracted crabs and had no qualms about sharing it with the few meat bags staring at her in the lobby.

My eyebrowless Puerto Rican cutie with flaming red hair and flat ass stormed out cussing in Spanish now. I followed her as she bee lined north toward Broadway. I wondered if she’d be going to La India to share her tales of woe with the lovingly self-nick named “puta boys.”

my way…

i hadn’t been to the Cecil for about four months i was going solo-er than usual i had a habit and i needed to hide it but at the Cecil that meant hanging with the big children my habit had to hide me that took some energy but i was chalked up to not only falling through the cracks but literally jumping off the deepest canyon voluntarily and with pleasure

tiny tattoos started bleeding through my skin and sex hated me my mind was random my family really random but as i got older i figured God’s grace ushered me through

early on a friday morning just before 2 pm i decided to go see if spare cock Amos was still living at the Cecil i was supposed to be at college prep but it wasn’t interesting sitting anywhere for longer than 8.9 seconds was excruciating and my limbs just needed to move

the bust stop bench in front of the hotel had been vandalized and some Mexican guys in orange vests were loading the pretzelled metal unto a Metro Services pick-up one of the guys a squared faced short legged man with spikey salt and pepper hair puckered his lips at me a few times like when a dog really needed to take a shit i looked down noticed a lady bug on the left cuff of my sleeve and cupped it in my right hand

she was deep brick red with tiny black spots slowly the hand uncupped the chipped black nail polish on my hand mimicked her spots i too puckered my lips blew a kiss and Holly flew away named things and stuff

the hotel lobby was worn down the palm trees dried out and their pots ashy and clay like the coupons dissected and plucked from the Times were neatly stacked on the concierge’s desk i sat across an olive toned man who wore a sports jacket and Laker color biker shorts i could see that his toes were mostly calcified with nail fungus he asked my name as he offered his Steponas Francine i reciprocated starring at his foam green flip flops

looking around Steponas scooted to the edge of his couch his ass must have been sweaty on account of the screeching sound he made when scooting i sat back deeper into my couch crossed my twig legs and swung my combat boot left to right Steponas retrieved

my attention got hijacked by a loud drag queen coming down the stairs but she wasn’t Spare Cock she was just really pissed off apparently she contracted crabs and had no qualms about sharing it with the few meat bags staring at her in the lobby

my eyebrowless Puerto Rican cutie with flaming red hair and flat ass stormed out cussing in Spanish now i followed her as she bee lined north toward Broadway i wondered if she’d be going to La India to share her tales of woe with the lovingly self-nick named puta boys