defectors of defeat

The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.
–A Farewell to Arms (1929)

i not ever one to stay settled
not in a chair nor a desk or a flipped car in the middle of the highway

i not ever one to cry fold up or whimper after the first punch slap or ranting curse

gables decisions transfers petitions bus stops late nights running away to dark alleys

broken arms scraped face bloody nose bruised halo twisted wing midnight summer clouds intrigued

books parks veterans of various fights  teachers preachers women brothers fractured holy lives

war with peace along the edge we’re marched too soon where time has earned the essence of our hands yet not the moxie of the spirit

Diego the flowers

Diego the flowers
that you painted on the backs
of golden skinned girls
farmed in mass inside buckets
now sold by broken old men

Diego the flowers
bloom no longer green and grain
just soak in buckets
on sides of freeway exits
food colored twisted blossoms

Diego the flowers
indigenous majesty
from a time before
the conquest of Silicon
with barcodes on their petals

urban meadow blues

meadows i see on the packages in the lady business aisle of my regular supermarket

when i was young and high living the downtown life meadows were tucked twixt the words of John Fante

on crowded freeways i imagine meadows green with polka dot flowers instead of beer bottles and trash

i too have stood on meadows ignoring reality when news and accounts have been grim

on the meadows of my mind while i stand in line waiting for my time with the speed ticket money taker i swear i have been a Hopi princess

meadows in the park constructed from repurposed everything that underserves the very point of wild God created freeform and bear in mind your parking meter too

wet dream

sheets wrap what is left of me

apple wood scent fills the air California burns again and again

all organs supple still throbbing where they need to

thrilling fancies pool around my head eyes closed your face i read in the darkness of it all

lips brush tenderly drinking of my well from dark to light no one dispels the rumours that encircle you

in your hands i am burning like Califa queen arms let go no pressure felt safety net falls into hell

the grail lays on it’s broken side empty in your hands it once stood brimming with love scent intoxication down the surface of my legs

in your hands my history of civilization lips give way to carnal cries teeth gnash eyes shut tight

the comet passes through my skin truth lies in secret screams revealed

to me you’re just a dream

fish eye

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

turquoise

2:57 in the morning Broadway still suffers for someone
traffic lights blink with the force of anemia
i think only of you
and wonder how to kiss your eyes
so blue like turquoise
the Sun she won’t be long in coming to teach me what pains me to know
as i wonder how to kiss your eyes
so blue like turquoise
the Moon he’s been a coward left me at the bar
he slipped away to chase a star
and i wonder how to kiss your eyes so blue like turquoise
as i step again into the hemming of the dying night
the puddles underfoot are my only guide
through the mesh of doubt and loneliness
and i wonder how to kiss your eyes so blue like turquoise
i thought i saw you down the road
chasing your old ghosts
in such a radiant glance you told me of another’s heart
through Broadway i wander
and recite ‘will i ever be enough’
and wonder how to kiss your eyes
so blue like turquoise

for Mr. Banks ♡

purgatory

time appears to have gone on forever and there is a big chunk of me whatever i am that has not changed on this day a very long time ago i was granted permission to come into this world to a big city that is just made of legend i learned very quickly that when the sun went down we all bled shit sleep fought hated just like each other no big difference not from the next city over not from the next country over and probably not from other planets today that old cautionary statement we only live above our demons but we never get rid of them swirls in my head i confess at times i don’t know how i think how i see things i don’t even know sometimes if i believe in pain emotional spiritual physical i don’t know the difference at times what does it feel like to be without pain does it feel the same as being in pain don’t know so here i am back at the Cecil Hotel right where i have always been obviously not in body but in soul sometimes when there is no one around to question the fuck out of me and why my face looks or doesn’t look how they want it to look that particular day i wonder am i a ghost i wonder have i been reincarnated i wonder when i look up and down Broadway and Main to the left or to the right and then i look up and turn around and i look at empty shells of buildings where gargoyles used to be decorations masonry ballrooms perhaps so much and then there will be a particular window that enraptures my eyes and i can’t look away and if i squint my third eye i swear i can see her young dark hair big green brown eyes i don’t know what her name would have been maybe Hazel maybe Dorothy who knows not a modern name and then when my third eye blinks she jumps