in preparation

time sits on the shelves
next to all the dreams
just an index finger’s length
out of reach
her side of the wall
sustains the portraiture
of her bloodline
his side the world’s articles of hate
never knowing of each other
going about their life
the wall that separates them both
in between the unseen darkness waits for them
patiently there void of light
and when that time marches from its sitting place again
to guide their souls into the other world
the ego skin from them will finally be shed

when she was

stillness has a home among ashes of dead flowers past
old dust only remnants left of her
here in this room of austerity supple cries still cling to the remnants of the time when she was
when her bird died or when her heart got broken to know he had been taken from her in a muddy field cold with rain and damned with fire
madness ensued and she never knew that her name was the last on his longing lips

blunted

mbrazfield (c) 2020

why so tough kid cry or something

i’m ok man don’t trip

your friend overdosed in the hall by the curtained room

are you telling her folks or who

we called your dad isn’t he coming

no he said

do you want to go to the hospital your nose is bleeding

it does that when i hurt

oh did you fall down

no i hurt for my friend growing up even my toys were mechanical

freed

she thrived optimally when lost in LA

salty sassy loose and Catholic tube top wearing even on cold days

mother of three husband gone missing foul play by the finest in town

she talked back and took what you had with scorn and laughs

yet in the sun light at the plaza when traffic is quiet beggars and convicts safe in their bags

she fed the pigeons ever so delicately threw breadcrumbs at them not like a DiMaggio but like a Pavlova

then they were fed no more

my trip with Azrael

you know the time is nigh
you won’t need anything
would you agree


yes i’m prepared
while we travel can i tell you
how i loved the cool walks
the strong espressos and
the smell of fresh baked croissants over at Figaros
and when i was young
i loved the life that was
fast hard strong and brutal

was that when you felt invincible
Azrael asked

i suppose i didnt really feel anything
can i tell you about all of the beautiful people
dressed in all the colors and walk
step by step
and the children
they the true celestial thousand points of light multiply in God’s eyes forever

did you incur any regrets after all you’re just a human Azrael reminded

time lost revelling in my hatred and my pain first of self then of my nature of my sins and my enemies my inability for many years to feel with all of me
and seeing that i was about to cry Azrael lifted me with warmth and ease as my last breath sweet with smells of incense drew from me a soul unique and we clasp hands into the light of eternity

death of Joaquin

it starts off by an off beat Gregorian chant afternoon belly bloated with heat reruns of Felix the Cat on TV in his past there is a cave maybe he will have to retrace his steps there upon death as they say drool found on his face they gossip abscess on his left leg old black leather shoe scuffed Cuban heel by an original LP cover of the BeeGees to love somebody the irony thick as his moustache neighbor woman ratted red beehive hair hail to the Virgin Mary cat lady eye liner black lipped chiquita vampira cried to the fuzz that she’d gone to check on him on account they fucked every two months navy blue jeans creased to cut cement Pendleton blue white and gray cigarette burn holes fourth button missing from bar scuffle at Footsies last May Fruit of the Loom classic wife beater still stained with the blood of his grandfather a beloved heirloom his Marine days led him astray in the tunnels of the mind alphabet soup G issued pharm cocktailed with torture death and some bombs upon closer inspection Det. Mullen said he has a tattoo with the name of Belinda on his left breast and the cross con safos por vida mark on top of his right hand directly above the thumb crippled by a Derringer at the sweet age of twelve tomorrow was supposed to be the visit between he and his estranged MIT son who goes there on a scholarship won Joaquin had planned to gift him a gold plated LeCross and his Purple Heart medal for enduring a three year involuntary vacation for his country at the Hanoi Hotel

hey letter X

hey letter X
you’re my favorite
i relate with your
closed off heart center
but four very open ended arms

i too have closed in
and have for many years
but the more the heart shut
i kinda became vulnerable to
the dark underbelly of too much
awareness of things best left alone

some might say through this traveled winding tar soaked road that i’ve acquired more X’s than the Pussy Cat Theatre

i guess it’s the best to have open options not to get boxed in but at times in the midnight hourglass of time

the thought Xes my head that we both have four paths and our keys to the maps are rusted shut deep in our centers

winged dirge

the songs that birds sing sweet and piercing in my heart

lay me to rest in some other part
of Your universe so dark

where the songs that birds sing
sweet and piercing like Your voice

lay me to rest in Your universe

with those songs that birds sing

i too will be free soul pure

sweet and piercing songbird

resting in Your universe at last