complication

you ask why do i cover it
wandering around town
a million thoughts
abstract in their reality
answers swerve but then the questions haunt
im not a fitter in the jigsaw of today right now
just a passing sorceress with a spray paint can
strayed under the bridges dirty shoes bruised features
archangel seal on finger never ringed but broken twice
but even in slumber you complain
how can anyone ever hold you
your hand anchored to your hardened chest
it’s a reflex i whisper back
shes frail
beating hushley
neath this bony tattooed hand

where the dusk of the living sighs

You higher power

Holy Ghost

Dove of Peace

Lord of Abraham

i have always loved You

not in a temple home

or candles steeples crowns of thorns

i’ve loved You through his venomous smile

the flowers on the bush deathly sour

the raindrops of my heart

through the ruffian storm of my disease

the nails that bind me to this salt

that seasons human behavior

gawking at birds pinned in the drowsy sky

dots of tenuous freedom

i’ve loved You through his lips of lies

midnight dips

of hazed oblivion

through my veins i thought of You

hollering the choked mangled Hallelujahs

i have always loved You

on beds of death

i’ve laid my head to fester

my lips quivered caving inward

the name of the unobtainable Highest

cardboard hallowed sidewalk snares

i’ve loved You

fearful through the steps i took

where the dusk of the living sighs

the birds would sound

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

first tree in the palace

i believe it was last night or possibly the night before last
i don’t know it’s been about 53 hours off and on insomnia
watching news programs
no music
no music for about a week
feeling very tired
Christmas 2020 is upon us
i miss the world
i’m not sure what’s going on
i stepped outside
i saw the faces
covered muzzled no joy in their eyes
and i live among peoples who are very jubilant
my heart sank
last night or possibly the night before
the sickness came
cold sweat
tears
headache
heart jumping out of throat
fear irrational dark squeezing fear
i thought i had been dreaming about Queen Victoria and that first tree in the palace
i thought i felt the snow from Utah
i thought i smelled the stench from downtown
i thought i saw the lights from my Christmas tree go out
then i thought i saw Mary Magdalene touching my menorah
putting out its lights
when i was able to gather my soul and stuff it back down my throat
i sat at the edge of the bed
my cats trembling in the closet
looking at me 6 big bright eyes the Pleiades
i thought and i smiled
i went into the restroom washed my face with cold cold water
fingers shaking causing tiny little droplets to congregate around the bathroom sink surrounded by bottles of hygiene
there was no wind
there was no noise
unseasonable quiet
every other home that i saw through my window dark
no laughter of children
no blow up snowman
no nothing
not even a lonely bug or a spider
i imagined
i really should try to rest
i really should try to stop watching the news
i really should just stop and catch my breath
i was watching The History Channel the other day
they had a Bible soap opera and Jesus was very glamorous all of the Persians
wear eyeliner it looked very chic
then i thought about Bukowski’s  Dinosauria, We poem
i think he was a prophet
that drunken old fool
i’m sending you hugs and kisses Buk
i think sometimes i think too much
but nothing worth a sigh
nothing worth anything at all
i will relax
i tell myself
i will relax
i will pour myself a tall glass of black coffee  pour molasses very slowly
i shall stir
i shall not want cigarettes
i shall not desire a little drink 
i shall not touch any needles
i’ve been so very good
i’ve been so very good
yes i remember now it was last night
it was full of terror
good thing about this dream
was that i could not hear myself scream
i wouldn’t want to cause any problems
i wouldn’t want to scare anyone
cold cold sweat
cold cold hands
cold cold brow
i smile today at the bouquets of sunflowers 
i thought about Vincent van Gogh
how would he wear a face mask
the poor devil only had one ear
these are the thoughts
that pushed the other thoughts
but i don’t want to think about it
i walk through the grocery store aisles
looking for noodles
looking for broccoli and brussel sprouts
my favorite
i passed on the candy bars
no good i say
i pay and i get into my car
for a short but silent drive home
i climb up the stairs
very carefully this time
i open the door and then
i’m in a desert
i could feel the heat radiating on my
cold cold brow
i look around
i’m no longer wearing any clothes
instead i wear a coat of serpents
i can feel my arms flailing
hoping to cast them off
i try to wake up
i try to leave the desert
during my morning coffee
i recall what had happened
i look in my refrigerator
there are no brussel sprouts
there was no Coca-Cola zero
no broccolini
but i thought about going for a walk instead needless to say i didn’t make it out the door again today
instead i tied ribbons on my Christmas tree
i have to say i  like Victoria’s style

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

mbrazfield (c) 2020

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

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