tonight i let go
joy at my feet
smile my
mouth red
lipstick
bon voyage
once the strike is stroked
i hope never to return
Poetry
bio
when i was a child
the God’s words confused me
as it was in the beginning
so shall it be in the end
Marley’s wailers also wailed
yet it still made no sense
when i was a girl
i studied about war in the local school textbook
but saw that both famous Abrahams modes of being sat naked on the dirty modern streets no bosom to hold tight to
no log cabin to sleep in
and Mary virgin mother became an entrepreneur in bottled holy wine and bloody linen sheets
just like any old biker momma i would come to meet
when i ran away just before the legal untender age
i devoted my life to Saint N Cassady
acid tests numbed out tongues
hugging my chest to my knees
i just one spec of ash
from the forest of the streetlamps
where we all burned
from creationists angry balls
middle road i step the curb
beginning never esoteric
ending at my mother’s vault
whispering sitting on the retainer wall
perhaps in this universe
i’ve lived it all simultaneously
take it like a man
sky weeping like widow
breeze cold dead man bones
the mirror of wilted flowers in my eye
piano and Adele my lips shut
breath held tight
her song did puncture
the pus filled soul in me
a mallet made of wings
swung across a street
it struck me in the heart
had that ambush ne’er happened
i would have never known
i was woman
for all the times
i had to take it like a man
to bow my head or look away
the lost glamorous stare
the sinking laugh
into the nothing
you said your mother would have liked me
but you never were in love
a convenience fuck i solely was
three Thelmas
Thelma was from Panama
a dancer in her day
came to Hollywood with glimmer in her eyes
but ended up scrubbing walls
and partying it up for pay she said
Thelma was from Washington DC
went to fancy chemistry school
came to NYC to do her thing
and we all three Thelmas
black eyes in common have we all
three Thelmas from different places
in the world cold winter rain
has become the norm
beads of soaking wet misery upon our windows
stretch and shrink and rainbows emit
no colors through the smog
mi amor
we stand on soil and dried blood
my window from my grave looks to you
staunch proud vulnerable and loud
you smell of shit but yet hike up your skirt
that makes my mind get a hard on
deeply i breathe and think thoughts
that only you and i can decipher
like when i chased that first dragon
down your Chinatown manhole covers
or when i kissed your cold flat marble walls
you and i
you filthy whore a threesome with a snarl
Sloe Gin.
beautiful feel good put a smile on your face work please please please check it out much love everyone and thanks Master Reeves xo
ptsd
your fingers cured as leather
surprise my cheek and bottom lip
by instinct i recoil
i know you felt it
i smile face looking down
you look at the alley
changing the subject
to how fast flowers die
after being picked without chemical support
by instinct i recoil
paranoid that you might be talking about me
later on in the cobalt night
sitting on my kitchen counter
hoping that maybe those lived in fingers
might think of caressing me again
tired like Kaufman
the sun is out she wears orange
freckles are her spots that cause chaos
upon the lines in the sand yesterday
the avocado trees gave without regret green
they were now the willows hang there
i just another organism single celled alone
yes the grass blades dewey with blood
from shedding flower cannibals deep among clouds
then the bus explodes its breaks the chosen
ones get off weighed down by sad
moons broken heart he a stoic far
beyond the grasp of the Neptune comic
ulcer
acid rain drop tear
eye field of grain
gypsy cloth for burial
standing we don’t stop
just beyond the starline
shelter roof of water
floor of heaven hell
grew cold of waiting
ulcer in the chiding
mouth of goddess in
between the deaths of
lives less killed our
candied bitterness let’s build
a temple maybe five
before the swallows fly
back stoned to nests
tipping over ashes was
the flowers of my
bed in hair graying
grady’s psalm too point oh
wet sand stink in my nose
thoughts of another month gone
but funny thing
im walking on my city street
Master Reeves literature check
big ass cup of iced Americano check
sun shining on my head check
to the left of my short shank
a begging tent with liquor spills
to the right of my short shank
my jean ripped on a baby palm tree
traffic below the Wilshire boulevard bridge
connecting insanity and greed
sometimes an old woman will shake her fist
at the medical marijuana rig
going at a breakneck slow speed
at the corner the fruit vendor speaks
to his regulars about the Trump defeat
but i squeeze by avoiding getting sucked in
to consequences of a life so alien to me
well i’ve never been to Pensicola or
Miami FLA im from Californayay
my lips pucker out a lame refrain
then i wonder about Bettie Page
her life as a saint
it gets late
sky hued like wild honey
littered is my view
with COVID warnings
i reach to pick at the mask round my neck
in respect for a millennial child
with each crispy step to my place
traces of hurled up chow mein
discarded condom wraps
and leaflets notifying me Jesus saves
words less spoken 