hemorrhaging thought

mbrazfield (c) 2020

this thing inside the mind has lost the path of where its from chromosomes in a situation room in outer space the Earth has crowded me

mbrazfield (c) 2020

shit really he says the days of roses haunts me the road to stray is right outside are you sure about that picking sage and ask permission BB King i heard you holler Lucille my love

mbrazfield (c) 2020

strings flap churning trains of thought wishes prayers gone amok by the howling wolf in a poet’s dream the sting of death follows me pluck one then two then three the boy won’t ever find me until he looks inside of him there i will beat pulsing with the flow of light

great Grady’s ghost!

it happened in slow motion lightning fast simultaneously laughing gas i crawled like a cheetah at the break neck speed of a snail that’s all i can think of i remember it was 4:44 am and i needed to go to thee room not any room thee room people were sitting on plastic chairs orange yellow green like an artificial fruit salad outside of the Macy’s window circa 1936 there were little speakers on the ceiling with little mesh coverings like those that cover the shower drainage holes i thought i might have been walking on the bathtub floor laughing gas they said and further down the hall there were ashtrays big tall cylinders with a silver topping and sand and butts yellow butts put out i could see the name brands on them Menthol Kools Marlboro Winston Camel and then there were big cigar pieces i don’t know what you might have called them i was just a kid i remember seeing tiny little Dixie cups inside of the telephone booths and there they would be those little cups with blue and yellow flowers and the name Dixie i guess that’s where people stash their pills i also remember the phones being off the hook buzzing and buzzing and buzzing and i imagine an old woman on the left hand side middle booth cream dress church hat white wiry hair crystal green eyes and dead lips she stared at me like a frog i look down i know who she was once we passed across the hall there was a war survivors and i peeked and i saw a room full of gurneys men mostly black men with bloody bandages somewhere missing legs and then from my right ear i could hear an invisible body that sounded like they were from Texas white harsh hateful yelling at the top of this lungs to be taken out of that room he didn’t particularly like being with the coloreds i had never seen something like that the laughing gas they say the laughing gas and further down the hall no yellow brick road my hair wild frizzy intertwined with a piece of bubblegum right in the middle but they didn’t know and i didn’t tell it was strawberry i believe later that night with my tiny little left hand i recall pulling it out the pain made me feel down to earth although i don’t know what was happening to me i had little hands finally we reached our destination the nurse lifted me up and while she carried me for about 4 seconds and sat me on my gurney i remember seeing my little gown pink with little yellow teddy bears my little thighs were bloody i don’t know why i could feel my nose being crusty and no one in the room was my relative no one in the room was anything other than a wage-earner no one in the room was anything more then a team of let’s put them back together again the laughing gas the laughing gas they sing

orphan

i often forget his smile the glint of his eyes pulling an old dog eared letter i touch his cursive delicate but unintelligible there are no particular ideas in the tight ringlets of pale black ink his mind was full of scorpions she never returned to him they both mad with ego and one uppance i progeny alone i with a heart full of wasps

moon confessional

mbrazfield (c) 2020

the dreams i have are irrational futuristic agnosticly holy and in reverence to the moon just this morning between coffee and more coffee and water and coffee i thought the goddess was a lamplight but no my cheeks felt blushed and that hot hot feeling came over me warnings of physical danger the moon caught me flirting with a piece of lemon cake for breakfast but i wasn’t interested nor in the tea or the oats memories washed over me of my uncle’s girlfriend’s breakfast table robust meaty no fancy meanings a flap Jack was just that gluten fat saturated and otherwise corn syrup and food coloring sugary cereal more potent than cocaine Tang for the kids gin and oj sometimes too wink wink lives so many lives i telepathically tell the moon can you see the despair from up there you lady with the rabbit tattoo engulfed in memory was i talking like a rabid fool i turned and looked outside my window and there she was all round and orange inching into my kitchen to see what all the trouble was

California Covid sun

following the gray marbled filigree of last month’s mud on sidewalk downtown farmers market hot with California Covid sun

the cherries look tempting but the purple Peruvian potatoes go great with olive oil pink salt and cumin my face tightly masked chewing the fat with the book vendors afoot offering their home address for their monthly ‘hope we get laid’ poetry reading salon

then the urban crows catch my eyes they with E A Poe smiles rainbow oil slick feathers shine under that California Covid sun

Dr. TL tongue tab flash back dream hits me like a polar breeze suddenly there is baby Grady golden brown moppy hair blue Keds size three and an uncle with soldier rough hands smiling at me

no sooner than a tear peeks into my water line a sonic whistle from Spring Street punctures my loser mind Lola Ramirez on the weekends and Manny Sandoval during the MF 9 to 5 she a purple paisley mu mu gold earrings and Michael Kors sack me black t shirt with the face of Siouxsie Sioux paper Trader Joe’s bag both aging X’ers under that California Covid sun

Lola and i float to the flower stand and her throat crooned in a Yucatanian Spanish slang enchanting and schmoozing the vendors so i get to pay ten bucks for a 50 dollar assorted calla lily bunch

the 4 am 3 cup Turkish coffee buzz wore off and dull knife pain from old injuries descend upon my left arm so i shared a dream that a cool boy once had while Lolita and me sipped iced black pressed molassesed coffee under that California Covid sun