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

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

homenaje moribundo

From my bleeding heart

Rain the cries of a bottomless love

In ardor and pain and sweetness from the guava fruits

Destined to wither and die on your ground

Angel of cruel deliciousness

Knocking on the broken door of my memory

As I agonize in the thought of your becoming eyes

Hell does circle me every day and brighter at night

Lady of the circulating endless ecstasy

Only you can allow me to die in peace

Image by mbrazfield (c)

estimada novia de colores

en las garras de la pasión

mírame en los ojos

un color come el mío

te juro no los vas a ver

eres el suspiro de la vida

que nace y muere como la Coatlicue

quiero ser libre en tu prisión

y nunca escapar dulce peregrina señora del altar

de las cosas más sagradas en su naturaleza perversa

píntame con tu arco iris

columnas de nuestros padres

las madres ya no van

y siguen su camino

quiero que hagamos amor

en Saturno

y con uno de sus anillos

hacerte mi esposa

social worker

in the dawn

when bodies intercross

that stage of simultaneous

exhaust and regeneration

my mind becomes of another plane

where the primitive fears

gargle up before i can close my third eye

my getting beat or a fork in the road without its tines

i wake for a few millennial seconds

then heavy weariness weighs me down again

smelling Jewish rye bread toasting

i’m at the house on Rodney street

wearing my mother’s clothes

and my lips sewn shut

phone alarm buzzes on

and the cats start to call me mama

slowly i rise

unconsciously tap my lips

while dragging my feet

to the bathroom mirror

another day in hell

and all i got is a cup of ice chips

no egos need apply

tranquil 3:48 p.m. cemetery

exposed roots and i lay my head

on them inhaling the stink of rot

coming from the moisture

entwined in their wood

like cells and chromosomes

the lawn lush and cool

flower beds the brightest

colors in nature’s pupils

jeweled hovering insects

with class and personality

perhaps we are in the place

where not only the dead

come to rest

below the soil

a natural process

holy if you will

is taking place

God’s created flesh

returns to its forewarned state

i can’t imagine it would

appeal to me if i saw it

i then wonder would God’s

face appeal to me too

i focus back on the scents

around me

green aquatic a fowl or six

fried chicken knock off perfumes

car exhaust a hookah oxtail stew

and i think again

behind the pedi-cured beauty

underneath my resting fleshy bones

resides the biological truth

no egos need apply                       

on 4th street

when the dogs got tired

and laying on the floor

perfectly brown and gold spots

little Dachshund legs

stretch out but just a few centimeters long

and green eyed kittens by the door

wild shooting whiskers

like the sky on fourth of July

looking for big momma’s kitty teats

then we all look up at the window

simultaneously in time

although i’m just passing

through an old aunt’s borrowed room

the whistle of the train

needled through my soul

and they perfect holy and beautiful

yawn at the sound of the force

baseless essence

mirrors slates to the eyes

cold blood hot cries

in the forests of wires

camping for leisure

in soul of one who

was once a beauty

now the dump

they along with the trash

typhus and the brass pipes

in the underground

akin to the bony

once strong legs

of our fathers

stones from her river

are epoxy sold in bags

at the mostly made in China

flower and craft shops

we and they still people

we are flesh

twenty nine doors down

we also have botulism

to soothe the angst

of those whose spirits

have been mislead

to look inside the slate

and not see

the true worth of their inner glow

atheist riot

warm Sunday

City Hall lawn

young people

bright yellow

biker shorts

we too

sit there

moving slowly

watching smiling

at the

busy gnats

we drank

sour beer

sharing one

warm can

that took

three hours

to buy

our sisters

a yard

away talking

and pouting

smacking lips

laying out

their tired

patchwork skirts

they twirl

bottle cap

rosaries between

their stained

fingers etched

with cuts

and cracks

the brothers

coming out

of trance

acknowledge that

nothing here

will change

too many

men on

the job

too many

brains and

greedy wallets

planning our

fate and

we all

look up

at the

trumpeting birds

and we

rise in

arthritic waves

even though

were under

thirty one

and in

a hallelujah

arm stretch

above our

messy heads

our sisters

break out

in harmony

as their

washed out

bone bleached

bracelets jangle

snapping fingers

send a

thanks to

the heavens

the brothers

do a

little dance

and onlookers

stop to

stare with

smirking eyes

and jaded

quips against

the humble

family on

the lawn

who can

only address

God outside

of hypocritical

sanctimonious walls