it’s morning 3:19 the night whimpers from it’s crucifixtion in the sky we the restless on Main paralleled Broadway sister witnesses to the brooding eyes it’s a good time to smother the thoughts of hank william’s weeping moon two birds and a falling star as if the universe dropped and disappeared we shut our eyes feebly make protective signs in the air while following the procession with electromagnetic Tujungas wearing withered gowns weaved of the failed tourniquets that abandoned the Braves and so now here we are dying of the fat of the land
in the depth of night between the filigree of moon light crystal insect words make little dotted noises in my brain since i can tell of time it wasn’t until now that i could see beyond the webs fog frustration confusion and fear toads scream and vines in the desert of my mind appear taking my breath in a zone beyond my flesh finger tips where i continue my monthly sins of my father installments bones collapse beneath the waves of chemicals from my fields of breathless hours what in heaven will i do if i know not what it demands the taco stands teem with hunger for all the wrong things on Broadway and 7th where life begins from vapors
flag display in the El Pavo Real DTLA jewelry gallery on Broadway these beauties have hung there since my kidhood seeing them there so dignified brought back so many wonderful and tragic memories Bruce Lee movies arcades colorful candied almonds parents embroiled in DV fear panic and coloring books fat crayons my pigtails and witnessing fatal drunk fights the stars in the sky an upward continuum of the light bulbs on the marquees and the ever hypnotic Million Dollar Theater and the frightening giant Victor’s Clothing blue groom and so forth and so on Los Angeles here I am your daughter….
if we could be safe in our seats we could share of our misery shed tears and sometimes maybe smile just because we’ve learned to navigate it doesn’t mean we deserve less than this we too like softness color flowers and art we too like chicory coffee and 5 dollar donuts we too understand the worth of work the taste of sweat and the temperature of let blood we are dignified in our wreckage we stand tall in your false shame we smile kindly forgivingly at your hollow grief for us today we sit on this humble chair where when asked we dissect our terrors and we remain grateful to this stoic chair for holding our hands as we let loose of our fears
afternoon cool wind corn oil scent tree leaves sway cars faraway honk ambulance sirens battle calls debris from those with poisoned veins the pain of their souls the cement has stained dying roses petals shrinking in the sun aging red turned purple bruise pupil trapped in a beam of sun lunch time at the school their joy began innocence fleets with every breath ancient calendar reborn again
i too want a president who has cried at night wondering where bread will come for their babies tomorrow a president who has leukemia addicted to crack and who goes days without eating lays on the concrete because a roof is unaffordable this president must outrun the voices in their head that tells them to eat rat poison my president must know the feel of a baton beating on their skull for not having money to enroll in Princeton or Harvard and being sentenced to perpetual poverty they must definitely have the wherewithal to spend 12 hours in line at the county office to fill out a five foot tall stack of forms to be considered to qualify for a monthly $225 benefit to pay for the mandatory American dream among other qualities this president must know the stench of a 5 day corpse with cracked ribs no hope who the system failed and blew off it will come in handy to know what it’s like to be called a bitch faggot slut wet back whore nigger spic camel jockey cracker and gook to feel their veins run cold on frightful nights of waiting in deserted bus stops being cat called by pimps with machine guns ready to claim and capitalize on your pussy and i want the president who will never forget that the boss are we the people who know what its like to live day and night under the above circumstances
today nothing happened today i saw a red tail hawk a boat on the shoulder a woman smiling a man crying a boy laughing with eyes brown with pride a girl disenchanted no rent signs on the sidewalk a man changing a tire a pile of wood on fire rats filing in line underneath the 110 North a stack of dirty books a trash truck stuck in mud 50 officers handing out Big Macs at the pupusa joint i saw politicos babbling in New Hampshire a park bench without a park stolen laundry hung to dry ramen wrappers on the sidewalk dirty needles by my car tire a man beyond this reality masturbating in the sun i saw thin ducks wading amidst cigarette butts dogs with baby boots a mother blessing her child with a kiss a woman with matted wig in pink and green and as i paused to take a blink the number of people hurting was staggering
Sunday January city center we drink coffee and eat i wander through the paths lined with counters and men with steam tables full of tacos and paper hats from another puritanical time when under your floors we got away with naughty things and Tommy gun rounds i smell the 40s in the maize pastrami sushi air while twinkling organic trinkets catch their shines in the corner of my eyes as they move to the ceiling fans keeping my ghosts a few inches above the ground old and new we merge in agreement and dissolve in short spurts of peace
the sound if steps drowned by the city noise voices flapping wings cries microbes eating away flies decomposing of things in the gutter and our minds traffic lights flash gasoline prices clash with American dream promises law enforcement law encroachment law deflation hunger pain need desperate ants we’ve become we have the potential to sell the soul of our children nobody knows not even me i just walk see repeat revolt retort with broken heart to mend by the edge of next block the children shout while learning to fly away from this discord
words less spoken 