in days my thoughts muddle i welcome the sun on my skin with sounds of wind
Author: mbrazfieldm
sábado de manhã
dew drops shape
coffee slowly drips
from the hallway foot steps fall
Cortana plays old time country tunes
the gray cat her ocean green eyes watch me write words that will remain unspoken
a christening awry
in the beginning was the word
as i unfold beneath my mother’s water
there i am suspended
in the middle of my death
beneath the water
where the all of my love
must now reside
beneath the water
and i heard the wind say
twixt the trees and the bush
and the word was with Him only
then my father spoke prickly and grotesque a gruesome eye opening
black doves in the dream led something in me to scream beneath that water
when that something of a passing breeze separated from the flesh of me
it said that the word was God
and i chose to fall back beneath that dark blue water
while upon my dubious rising
my arms stretched out
to the sinking of the sun
vos lèvres
thin and cold
red where i bit them
the whisker burn on my chin
your grip around the small of my back
tightens like a snake while wet drunken bitter blood tinged lips suckle the wilderness from mine
pajarito
little brown tuft
soaking in the rain
sad hibiscus tree is bare
tiny yellow beak pecking at stars
puffing his mottled gray chest the soaking wet wings take rise to nest in solitude deeper in the mountain
fragile
so fragile
the breath from my heart
only nature knows why Earth
has swallowed us whole into a fog
of tormented yellow grief that lingers there as a dying waxless flame
dans mon trésor
line
off the sand dirt tarmac wacks ready of the yet not a time for happy let ye olden wire zap the conscience to open the eye to come what may if knees are to be bent bend to Who saves the soul in the alley no one’s told if what when why how could they for what vision yourself fluffy cloud grandmother’s pie in the morgue of our contrition emergency suddenly emergency was were we not official then just continue to wash your hands
when will will learn
it has been there since David’s death truth mercifully laid out
just and only human not chosen by anyone
born of lust that’s it nothing more than that
you’re lying to yourself aren’t you tired
no ornament jewel pedigree or endorsement can change that
if anything extraordinarily unimportant is what you are
get it through your head the fact is not out there it’s in front of your face
smile why don’t you talk in pretty words give the bestest blow jobs to him to him you are just a convenient commodity
with willing open legs spare me those perfectly rolled tears as you hope that someday he’ll take your hand instead
dull minded old girl your will is not your own buck up
it starts with one step then two and so forth out from the world into your house where your will waits for you to open your heart
and for once let it swallow you whole
one day in January
hush she coos
the west is nearing
the sky leaves sullen traces
angels weep a tepid rain over
graves of stoney colored flowers too wounded to proceed wherein
words less spoken 