there is a blue bird vagabond
some say bad motherfucker
stepping strong
others have yet to hear
how he chirps to those songs
of old Lou Reed
soft spoken when he chews on the worm
self imposed exile
in the cage forged from fleeting truths
decoy soul within the vulture kettle
there is a blue bird wanderer
hopping from dream to dream
pecking at the hollow of his heart
in hopes of softening the cruel stare
of abandoned turtledoves
my vivid flag lays
only today at your feet
your lips on my neck
when i was 4
i followed you around
my old man young
at 25 raging away
at red blooded expectation
it was on those
pavements where i walked
in my buster browns
rock hard Bazooka Joe
in my jaws learning
to crush the pain
even at 4 i
disagreed with the politics
of calling you daddy
3 hours after you
smacked my mommy in
her mouth of hate
4 was an age
of converging lives desperate
for an out away
from each other though
my post infant mind
inherently knew that this
trip would not be
the last to take
place in yours and
hers non sequitur marriage
in the depth of night between the filigree of moon light crystal insect words make little dotted noises in my brain since i can tell of time it wasn’t until now that i could see beyond the webs fog frustration confusion and fear toads scream and vines in the desert of my mind appear taking my breath in a zone beyond my flesh finger tips where i continue my monthly sins of my father installments bones collapse beneath the waves of chemicals from my fields of breathless hours what in heaven will i do if i know not what it demands the taco stands teem with hunger for all the wrong things on Broadway and 7th where life begins from vapors
flag display in the El Pavo Real DTLA jewelry gallery on Broadway these beauties have hung there since my kidhood seeing them there so dignified brought back so many wonderful and tragic memories Bruce Lee movies arcades colorful candied almonds parents embroiled in DV fear panic and coloring books fat crayons my pigtails and witnessing fatal drunk fights the stars in the sky an upward continuum of the light bulbs on the marquees and the ever hypnotic Million Dollar Theater and the frightening giant Victor’s Clothing blue groom and so forth and so on Los Angeles here I am your daughter….
oh the woes you’ve seen
we both have grown old
only mother in my life
comfort us in light
words less spoken 