snapdragons in my dreams are rare
there’s a shadow following me around
my size 8 foot is split in half
and i don’t know when the last time i wore shoes was
you’d be surprised to know
i used to be a marine standing tall
upholding our liberty
i had children and a wife
and snapdragons in Gloria’s garden
where she’d watch our kids
splash in the little pool with Nemo
fish painted on it
black dragons are aplenty
in these sordid streets at night
in the alleys mostly charging at me and Chuck after we smoked a couple rocks his lips bleed from the broken light bulb pipe
the sun still lights i think i’ve seen it clutch the wooden slats between its
solar flares from where i pass out in the mornings
snapdragons are in my dream today
my youngest daughter placed them
at the foot of my grave

tough skin

like a tree in the dead of city
tough skin is what i need
to think about myself
as standing tall and without bend
tickling the sky with my leaves
tough skin is what i speak
through the chirps of tawny birds
and the billions of bugs’ marching feet
along the branches of my trunk

mbrazfield (c) 2022

flipping BMW drivers

where did that young girl go with wild wild hair to the air wind Master goddess
i used to see her in her shredded dirty jeans skateboard and Vespa rider with a Red Hot Chili Peppers sticker on it
flipping BMW drivers transporting hair metal idols up that degenerate Sunset boulevard
she went to hand out scraps of food and sterile needles to those trespassers of the high falutin hills of Hollywood
laughing crying walking up the trails to the magically acoustic historical Bowl in the hopes of enticing young runaways to come and stay at the charity homes
touched forever by JMBs dinosaurs with lines roller skating on the canvas walls
to meet the hero in her mind and not to know if he sunk or rose after getting called to judgment