the birds would sound

/ mbrazfieldm / 7 Comments

Baker Beach fog cold wet knees

sand deep cut wrists

knuckles bleed

cold sea wind seeps

into the cracks of the spirit

was around the time

we broke our peace

seagulls screeched wildly

above our coal black energy

you the pulling south

i the fleeting north

umbilical cord

severed forever

Artemis took this orphan in

taught me how to hunt

other creatures

such as i

for crazy cannibalistic 32182314155 rites

and wandering in every downtown desert

dawns spent in tunnels bent

from the neck down

every now and again

the birds would sound

toasting to paired up

cooing doves

that have flown away from me

cooing sounds of city pigeons

/ mbrazfieldm / 4 Comments

January

cold restless

eyes opened

limbs clasped tight into the womb of the donated forest green love seat

two suns and one absent moon ago

there you were in faded cotton gown

bleach rough by the sanitation bound

gasping and heaving

not too different

to the cooing sounds

of city pigeons

i never thought that you would go

as i expected that you were fighting

now

so much time has rushed on

and late tonight

while i write this for you

i wonder

were you crossing the Styx

neck deep

tell me

does that river ebb and flow

like your spirit and your soul

is the current soft

do the little waves embrace your ankles

like precious jewels

time split the light in two

we both took in your make up bag

i the incorrigible one

mumbled unsanctified Kaddish

not finding the words

no matter

YHWH had cupped

broken and trite utterances

from my mouth

valium crash the news looks bad the ship has lost its hull

/ mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments

there are walnut trees on Pluto i think
crystal diamond blue
horizon upside down
center dividers stars in bloom
Ernest H waves from a black velvet bull nebula
shooting at gazelles in heat
downtown city hall fenced off from vagrant free radicals steady to explore
news of the day inner tubes
floating up the ice tundra
teeny tiny core
liquor stores
barbershop
bank building
bikini lounge
margaritas screaming opera loud
golden arches
chicken all militarized
taco toll
franchise whores
open for business
Pluto has one cherry tree
at dawn we read thee Book
thee Morning Star’s dead light
we shouldn’t tell those lies
could the gropers mashers and fiends
grandpa killers darlings of infallible machines (wink wink)
dare to go where print castrates them
Pluto tired just like us
rotates on her side
ferns and fossil bones fuel
glistening surface ice
Charon chases Papa like a Marx brother
down a Cuban blvd
Che comandante semper fi
make a left on Broadway
Pluto grows tomatoes
shipped to Mars
on backs of rain forest mamas

defcons and goddesses

/ mbrazfieldm / 5 Comments

there are yellow flowers honey sweet
butterflies floating in between 
the thorns stick it to the sky
moons on time every month
silver matte and happy
but me thinks now and again
of defcon one through five
911 Cuban crisis kept at bay
yet with clear blue  skies
hope
open enrollment
healthcare packages
named after heroes named
what difference does it do when little girls are getting maimed in mind body soul and spirit
today i watched and saw and read and talked to those who’ve climbed the ladders of success congratulations were in order
at the park the pecan squirrels were fed bits of corn and French bread crumbs
and when i turned my eyes to the west
tired with the wind that blows to burn
again i think of defcon one
and how since Lilith and the Eve
my kind has been regarded
but we’re still here with codes
of our own bestowed upon us
by the goddesses Grace Strength and
Thunder

Yu

/ mbrazfieldm / 8 Comments

engine speaks in tongues at times

pulls into the soul

stops dusty clotted roads

the time to move was now

like a parade

on protest days

green mile flowers

line the way

sun kisses face alone

under hood hoses roar

radio delivers telegrams

from simpler times

and long ago

trails like waiting mothers

daughter shacks lined down

their shack feet shoed with poppies

ruby slippers anti-Hollywood style

ghost maidens sell red berries

for crows atop the Joshua trees

for me to feed

can’t stand tall

only in awe

dream catch spider web

crystals for tiny arachnid queens

their king hides under the rocks

wind fingers my aging hair

cowlicks everywhere

magnetism from Her core

presses on my mouth

and leaves a score

locked in me

are secrets stored

warriors express on Her behalf

not because they deem Her less

but because She is too sacred

for this place where i come from