GB

GB lost her friend today
in a family of ten GB lost herself
in a culture where family was amputated from centuries ago then GB lost her crown
GB’s friends have lost their battles yet they hang on like fatal car crash victims who wont recognize the great beyond
GB cried today sobbed is the better word
GB judged herself for not being there when his time had come
i only a specter following her around mute and heavy dragging the chains of frigid bureaucracy
GB lost her head for a moment frozen grief there standing
GB never had what we do but we dont comprehend when GB begins to agonize
GB died again today and wailed betwixt the thunder of the freeway next to us
tomorrow GB will wake up and look for him in her dreams his wheelchair there with a a little box of rolling papers asking her for grits and bacon

i knew the rainbow

im not ready to write that poem about pride i want to hold on to the last withering rainbow tufts of our youth
even as society judged you even as i relied on you as your own life hung over the cliff you gave me love
im not ever going to write about the goddamned rainbow and flags and house music and all of what you were pigeon holed into
i ache for you when i see a live pulse in the inside of my scared split wrist
i feel burning shame as if i could only gut myself out the several times you bought my junk when you needed life extending medicine
no i cant write about the marches and those vigils and political farces when i miss you so much
you were my mother my father my sister my brother my protector my guide you were my life choice accountant my guardian my saint
remember the time i was raped and you found them out and morphed into holy rage for a moment hell closed up while your fists rained down fury upon them we both wept
remember the morning when i knocked on your door and your mother answered with a face wet with Mary’s eye dew
from behind your favorite Japanese screen you called to me wondering if i brought you Thai iced tea
i navigated my shock to see your skin and bones when two weeks ago you wine and dined with joy at the Tenderloin
you said come kiss the queen and as i neared the top of your hand lowering my lips to your cool forehead
i melted next to your neck and received the final tear from your left eye and i knew the rainbow wouldn’t ever light my path again

*for Asa, i miss you so much friend say hello to Freddie for me

after the viewing of our father

it’s the hour in the rotation of the world when i don’t know why i think and i only hear snippets of what she tells me in between her gulps of coffee it has to be that i’ve lost my mind i think but i’m not sure she continues on to point out how difficult things are and how weak people are and i say they never stop to think that women like us have had it hard she agrees with hot coffee in her throat mid gulp gesturing a resounding yes with her thin eyebrows pointing up like a big foam hand at a baseball game he wanted masculine children and he cried when he had us but we had to be ladies in the midst of manly challenges how the minds were molded i think and i quip out loud there are no real man or woman challenges we get equal problems shoved down our throats and we gotta grow a dick to solve them and then chop it off when we’re done cut us a slit and put on lipstick and smile and stick out our boobs and then take it like a man all over again and again yet i’ve known so many who fold at the slightest breeze of uncertainty

and we laugh at the newest meteor hail storm we’re coasting through i marvel at our ability to be A Lincoln M Monroe J Dillinger and E Roosevelt all in one mind warp to answer and resolve the sums and restitutions owed by our father we are told girls don’t hold a quiver in your voice but it’s expected that when the crowds go home you should wither like a delicate orchid ripped from its stem and i see her from the corner of my eye tired a daddy’s little girl who is now the man of his house a mother and a father to us all she’s tired then i look down at my big boy feet my small girl hands my soldier’s soul my lost spirit angst and it becomes unbearable

Hyperion and Effie streets

“it’s been years since i thought about using my toes” she said sitting quietly on the corner of Hyperion and Effie streets she grew up hippie baby royalty before the majesties turned bourgeois as fuck “it’s been years since i thought about painting my toe nails” she said tucked tightly into her wheelchair under a patchwork or greens and bright reds and her nurse coos “you take you Sublocade  now ma’am” with her bugged pewter blue eyes and see through seer sucker skin she looks to the underneath of the yellow bougainvillea tree and snarls at the men smoking lined up slouched on the brick wall looking at their toes recalling a war and the traumatic brain injuries and legs blown off as more than one slouches sobbing in fear “it’s been years since i’ve walked on my feet” she sighs out loud through aged yellowed lips that once kissed the sky and the dandelions but now are sealed most of the time to keep her cancerous insides from falling out “it’s been months since those boys have been here” she said “i wouldn’t want them to see me falling apart” she wheezed under her breath on that corner of Hyperion and Effie streets