prints of silence

there is no peace
but just the
same i welcome such beautiful pain
beneath the twilight across the house where hope died
my essence lingers rootless derelict fool
my soul
the prints of silence tread the horizon where your muted light lives
from one thought to the next
if only i could take the ache away
snatch it from you
hide it from your face
if only i could soak up your tears
soothe the fear
that worlds collapse only in you
those monsters too akin to my mind
restless i wait knowing you’ll never arrive and still i look
strain the very nature of my sight
optimism passing like the fragile snow flake
you, hurt
you, hurt so succinctly
just hurt

what does it mean

mbrazfield (c) 2024

by the dirty window i sit
to watch people survive
there is no pool with living waters
no eternal flames
perhaps a rancid puddle
radiation fuming through
and a block away chalk lines
in the fetal position
my ego dies at the end
of the morning
there is a warm toxicity
in their eyes
we all beg in different ways
my lips half ass parted in warning
synapses remind me i should let be
and watch it unfold
like a ledger owed
in this house of spoiled wealth

comfort

if i could cup the face of the street
into my small dry hand
i would kiss her and lull her to rest
i would hum a tune about an old song
that sang about peaches and trees
so tired and awake are her embankments
littered with the scoff of the world
but instead i would tell her of pink snapdragons hula dancing in the mist
instead i cup my own face like a child after a crying attack
my ears stretch for a hum the sound of my mom or at least one lone derelict cricket

im still awake

im still awake
watching leaves radiate
baste in smoke
under bridges broke
my legs tired
heart not feeling
im still awake
cursed unlike cain
a woman stoic
my arms crawling
in vain smiling
ophelia is reviving
the world’s fire
hamlet’s ashes blown
im still awake
we sit today
marble and hate
feet shame caked
disorienting paths unwoven
siren lights off
im still awake

pookie pipes

on most nights
after the good girls have gone to bed
i remain in the bastard streets
of the fancy conniving boulevard
a priest of sorts a mother to them all
a bandage a kind word a gift card to Subway a needle a pamphlet
on every corner a hefty dose of Narcan
on most days i wonder
“what will i see today”
a corpse a hooker a business man
perhaps a Hilton or a Kardashian
my reflection on a tarnished metal sheet stretches my eyes down
it streamlines my cheeks
i flush and quickly leave
the phone rings
needed now on 7th street
when a little kid i was
Broadway was the place to be
Bruce Lee double features
before the Mexican Bs poured out
from the silver sheets mariachi trumpets and cock fights
the arcade and Arab jewelry shops
the old men speaking Yugoslav
fighting over parking spots
those were my early days
it’s about 4:36 am heading on foot
to Pershing square
the tamale vendors begin to stake
a corner with the most gabacho laborers
the scents and stenches
the city moaning itself to rise
i midwife the rising baby sun
sitting on the retainer walls
of Angels Flight
noticing a stash of pookie pipes
glistening in the runoff
of the Angelino fading starlight
it’s time for coffee and a jaunt
to Werdin Alley where i collect
the ticker tape prophecies in my mind
of what i will encounter later
in the nightmares of my night

Sunday, school

mbrazfield (c) 2023

the mattress sags
bones lay silent
skin burnt dry
head in doubt
heart up ass
ringless fingers cross
non sequitur prayers
Leonard Cohen verse
cry for help
no tenderness brought
broken twice again
number seven gained
habit births vice
child repent now
kisses down throat
poisons swallowed slow