22 days

third

night

comes fast

bleeding has not

stopped but i wonder how

the little birds are doing outside its raining

the momma flutters about with pink worms impaled on her beak squirming one

last time as slowly as time is crawling my thoughts converse i imagine them eating cucumber sandwiches asking if worms breath

my bladder called mad as hell on account she needed to be emptied cold with wiggly knees i stood as if my life depended on it i smiled a little wishing i could care

twenty two days of my demons staring me down i imagined them wearing fine silk tunics sky blue laughing green eyes and if i could feel them they would feel like velvet i missed the lies but when they possessed me it was if i was being held by a mother tenderly and warm safely

away from the dark but one day my eyes opened and i saw that it wasn’t true none of it tired of my demons telling me what to do i stopped talking to them inviting them in the resentments i felt where stronger than the need for false love and security which they offered so well at first it was easy then it became hard then it was as if i just walked from one box car to another waiting for the entire train to go off the rails

MAT gala

by 4:30 in the morning id be standing in line at the MAT with about 20 others in front of me Barbara wore pink and red when id see her every other day plus holidays if needed there was a shine to the clinic’s sea shell pink linoleum floor tiles learning to hone my ADD mind to the specks of tan and baby blue accents on the tiles id imagine that i was at the bottom of a fish tank i noticed that on Thursday mornings the floor was freshly waxed as the foot prints of my ragged American flag high top Chucks were captured on the surface it fascinated me at times but more often than not i felt shame wondering if this would be the only place id ever leave my mark the tired medical staff started the dosing at 5:30 and then you could wait a bit to see your therapist Barbara was one of the first transgender people id ever met she was really tall and with huge feet a blond wig like Charo’s nest sat atop her head Barbara’s eyes were jet black and big as prunes i loved her caramel skin and wondered about everything that might have made her decide to follow this path the little scars on her face and limbs weren’t caused by happy childhood memories like falling off your bike or whatever Barbara was obviously a warrior on days that we managed to find two empty chairs next to each other she’d tell me about the tricks she’d turn and how rent was getting crazy i was a dumb kid half my nights were spent in bushes at Pershing Square i didn’t know about life or rent and i was lucky enough to not have to turn to trickery during the holiday season i wanted to give Barbara a red lipstick that i had bought from Estee Lauder Barb was really nice to me she walked with my soul through the valley of the shadow of LA after three missed visits i found out through “one fuck” Clark another clinic patron and a one hit porn wonder i guess that’s where the “one” came from that Barbara got busted for hooking and was at County cooling off for a bit i drew hearts and skulls in the bathroom later with the fancy lipstick

Ma Joad’s great grand daughter

mud

coolness

green cricket

calls to the soul

primordial waste

spirit shredded woven

in the skin of the leper

i’ve become night hangs loosely poor

lacking luster my lady shoes not

good enough to walk the sidewalks of the

chosen fools who speed holiness away

my gown humble with the dirt of work

hands clasped in riot darkly hid

elbows turned upright gaping

for fluids of defeat

social sunshine glares

upon my lips

without a

tragic

face

try

mighty

sinner smile

at least look to

the west of Hope street

and the pillars under

the court house of the fake lights

at the steps of public health signs

and with divine encrusted begging

bowl nee five dollar coffee paper cup

we ask again tonight and through the day

for gentle rain across my face gone

away with sorrow full with blown

out stars gazing through the soul

of infant time and sin

seeped through secret holes

in skies hazy

with sanguine

guilty

stain

sa
photo courtesy of Hélène – Willow Poetry

ornithology

timid

green

eyed child

limp wheat hair

falls wet in the cold

rain tucked safe outside while the fire of

hate rages inside the walls of your land tenderly wilting all hopes away

a woman red hair blue suit white badge warped picture no passion picks you up silently both walk down the pebbled

path by the time Wilshire Blvd. is reached the bird nest is out of sight and you mature again manila files County words where are the crayons and Raggedy Anns pink Buster Browns forgotten

the clouds bright against tan butcher paper sad faces for the judge of the cages in my heart smile we must

fire suffocated unhappiness averted for a night or two little bird strains away

to reach those pink pebbles and pumpernickel bread

Canter’s chicken soup mummy’s black

eye gone for

now both

conditionally

freed

photo courtesy of Kristiana

complication

tempt

me now

your raw heat

on my begging

lips tickle softly scrape my skin with your

chin take your fingers pulse them low inside

let’s look away

nothing lost

when the

heart

is

broken

tossed in the

rain of remorse

pelvis to pelvis we dance on the floor

desperately clinging to whatever

we should forsake

to avoid

being

loved

first grade interpretation of the Old West

pausing by the pond 7 feet away from the peach trees left there by the chuck wagons of 1881 and the gingham bonnets stain upon the rocks placed there to dry in my western sun the Borox box is empty ma’ as the echoes of blond pigtails before the dawn of braces and Barbie dolls flowers dressed in yellow chipmunks draw a crowd and daddy presses on upon the kneeling giant mountains picking day and night sapping land from its sickled blood doing what men do but today my toothless grin will lend itself to draw a sigh from spirits past 1855 in the cavern of the snake