intertwined are we

intertwined are we
today was hard
my black sister
drunken on the
couch where life
grabs hold and
won’t let go
intertwined are we
me in my sea
of clinical tricks
to pluck the
splinter from your
broken shattered heart
intertwined are we
today we sparred
my yellow sister
sad and lost
sick of it
all you cry
within your soul
me with idiot
pen instructing you
to just sign
here and here
intertwined are we
my dear brown
sis your laughter
hides the rage
of voices in
your head tormenting
the peace from
your inner self
i can only
smile and praise
your strength knowing
that tomorrow night
there’s a chance
your spirit dies
intertwined are we
the nights linger
like the cigarette
on your busted
lips quivering from
meth and shame
from the time
of birth til
the time of
death you walk
in the weave
of that shadow
in that valley
the good book
warns us about
i follow your
stride into the
caves of the
damned you hoping
i go away
i knowing that
this was my
launching place before
intertwined are we

that that that

i don’t like to be kissed first

as it gives him power

i like options and opportunities

to leave him first

and not feel rejected

too much

i don’t like to be told

that he loves me first

because if i don’t feel the same

he might turn into a raging dog

i don’t want to have to consider first

that i will run for my life

i don’t want to fantasize

that things will be beautiful

i’m tired and the angels on their silver glide

have long left me behind

to rationalize

that its best to nip it in the bud

this fear instilled in me

that a first kiss might be the real thing

i need

i need rest from love
its worn me out and dragged me down
i need to not hear lies
or praises that don’t come deep
from the heart
i need to recover my peace
my sense of self
gather back my secrets
hide behind a safety veil
i need to leave
and lay in a desert field
with sand and rocks
the lizard kings and the sun
i need to watch the moon
and knit myself a coat of light
to lift me where i need to be
cuddled between the arms of freedom

mbrazfield (c) 2022

in essence

around here we radiate from the inside
we laugh because crying would mean shedding and giving out
with laughter we bring breath in
around here the afterwinter doesn’t fully unfold
yet the night and day in mid summer dreams can be very cold and far away
a never ending road of rocks and thistle
around here we build and tear down when it becomes necessary
in essence we always build
around here time does not matter and the Constitution is a gamble

mbrazfield (c) 2022

don’t want marching saints no more

I don’t smoke anymore. I don’t pay attention anymore. I don’t do much anymore. Anymore matters not to anyone. It’s been about two weeks. There is a foggy dream pricking at my waking reality. There is a politeness as to not give away who I am, and who we are, and what we are not made of. Orion’s Belt has lost another Queen Sister. Look up, see? The castle shines less than it did about fourteen days ago.

Sitting next to me, he, young and professional talked to you about developing a plan for hope. Sitting next to me, your cracked yellowed fingers, stiff like frankincense resin, shuffled through your last official systematic memoir, but he and I didn’t know. Did you know? Or did you know you couldn’t go on? Your blue framed reading glasses made of plastic were spotty and needed a scrub. Your skin ashy and hair matted into a bun, those fingers searching for that someone who told you that you were fine so that we could tell you too

 We met on St. Valentine’s, you tried with all of your might on St. Habet-Deus and laid yourself to rest on St. Alvaro’s soiree. Yet, when the old timer hard core practicing apostles hailed St. Polycarp, I stood looking at the west atop the building’s nest with my back to your door sealed by the authorities of science and service.

Charlie’s cough

Charlie grew weaker
from the old
1940s window pane
i’d hear him
then one dusk
in September nothing
a few days
passed i rummaged
the building’s trash
casually looking for
unexpected art supplies
it seemed Charlie’s
kin tossed out
everything that he
possessed and of
no advancement for
them pedigreed relatives
yet in my
quest for treasure
troves i found
from Ohio an
old Glessco bottle

mbrazfield (c) 2015

and the birds

i built a castle for you

made from fantasy bricks

crystal pink and jubilant

some of the windows

just framed by stories and things

not of any worth

the walls my twiggy arms

at times scuffed and bent

but strong

when the winters came

the foundation

a mere pond thawing

no life just murk

so i gave you pillars

adjusted from my short legs

lifting you from your knees

as you held tight

to the roses and wine glass

in your hands

and the birds

i could never get them to sing

for you Mutter

my throat unable

to find its stolen words