American Hotel

ulcer

/ mbrazfieldm / 5 Comments
mbrazfield (c) 2020

acid rain drop tear
eye field of grain
gypsy cloth for burial
standing we don’t stop
just beyond the starline
shelter roof of water
floor of heaven hell
grew cold of waiting
ulcer in the chiding
mouth of goddess  in
between  the deaths of
lives less killed  our
candied bitterness let’s build
a temple maybe five
before the swallows fly
back stoned to nests
tipping over ashes was
the flowers of my
bed in hair graying

fish eye

/ mbrazfieldm / 5 Comments

at first view i sparkled like a sinking blade in the sullen opal ocean
coming closer into the blinding dark a she Sun rose
open there i was to the cataract lens of luminescent death gaping mouth uttering finally nothing
my armored scales resplendent no more were plucked away with the dance of she wind’s torrential hair while absence in my marrow was shivered
my bones were to be the same of Jonah’s host and handler
prophet spitter
the hooks have gotten thicker
on the surface of my mind

for S Clemens

/ mbrazfieldm / 1 Comment

sky why you so blue
grass so green
trees so tall
soul so clear
eye so deep
as to decipher
what’s not clear
to this wounded heart
can these walls
really be it
alpha’s omega
will come so soon
the comet this way
comes again
to interview my nature

mbrazfield (c) 2020

fleeing

/ mbrazfieldm / 3 Comments

nine in the morning it rains there are no clouds
just a dark gray block in the sky angelic concrete
i am longing for something or someone to come
in to this rain with me
alas the freight train
she won’t come
she has never been here
nor can i see her smokestack on the horizon
and when the sun sets
the sun does set in the rain
but i can’t see it
the freight train will still have not passed me by
what would i do in that train you ask
i would get out of here
to another place
another time
another land away from the nightmares
away from the cures
at this point
this point right here
we are all mad
the disease is the Garden of Eden
i give into the garden
the garden is in the freight train
there with wood paneling
like an Irish grandmother’s home there with drinks
there with spirits
the freight train rattles and my longing evaporates
it is now nine at night
i have not slept
i have not slept
i will not sleep
the freight train
i don’t see her
she won’t come for me and my longing
the rain will not come
i was born on a rainy day
the rain she is my lover and my companion
and she also sits with me in longing for other skies
that only the freight train can give or take away