in the passing of the sun behind your painted glass eyes i wish i could sleep in trust of your seasoned strong arms but there around the bend of the sweet words in your throat awaits the anger of us both as you ebb and i flow out far past the horizon of the outermost still in the days ahead of us we vibrate alone longing for a reading of our minds we touch each others’ beating of our hearts in monumental silence
Domestic Violence
Croce’s bottle
sour wafts from the tip of your lips
you’ve been drinking since 5 43 am
vodka on my stretched out thermals
me drinking for more than a dozen days
i like the thunderstorm in your eyes
you caress the purple around my mouth
with gentle butterfly kisses
closed doors closed hearts
are never good you said
as i laughed at your motions of a saint
secretly fumbling with each others hurts
not from my lovers knuckles or the baseball bat scars from your soon to be ex wife
mere hurts and trepidations from yesteryears gone by
sloppily we kiss
hungrily you part me open
mounting what’s left of me
slightly the moon strikes
your sleeping face
as i hide mine between your shoulder blades
my thoughts drift into Croce’s bottle just for this night
intertwined are we
intertwined are we
today was hard
my black sister
drunken on the
couch where life
grabs hold and
won’t let go
intertwined are we
me in my sea
of clinical tricks
to pluck the
splinter from your
broken shattered heart
intertwined are we
today we sparred
my yellow sister
sad and lost
sick of it
all you cry
within your soul
me with idiot
pen instructing you
to just sign
here and here
intertwined are we
my dear brown
sis your laughter
hides the rage
of voices in
your head tormenting
the peace from
your inner self
i can only
smile and praise
your strength knowing
that tomorrow night
there’s a chance
your spirit dies
intertwined are we
the nights linger
like the cigarette
on your busted
lips quivering from
meth and shame
from the time
of birth til
the time of
death you walk
in the weave
of that shadow
in that valley
the good book
warns us about
i follow your
stride into the
caves of the
damned you hoping
i go away
i knowing that
this was my
launching place before
intertwined are we
for Slim and Steve
thorns so sharp
and beautiful like your love
unattainable to the touch
dry and dead like promises made
in a far off night
that was made in a bottle

killing word haiku
the venomous words
eject from a prickly tongue
the heart hides itself

painful haiku
supple
like
iron
words
hard
as
redwood
branches
hand
heavy
with
hate

mbrazfield (c) 2022

lucky
your kiss makes me wait
then forever you vanish
the flowers will bloom


sweet violent love
remember when skies cried
i’ll never forget the ghost
love thy husband they say
you keep walking on the tar
through jungles turned to mire
the wrinkles i have earned
black eyes can be forgiven
holes in hearts we both have
of lies and innocence we lost
time alas does not heal most


Las muchachas

and the birds
i built a castle for you
made from fantasy bricks
crystal pink and jubilant
some of the windows
just framed by stories and things
not of any worth
the walls my twiggy arms
at times scuffed and bent
but strong
when the winters came
the foundation
a mere pond thawing
no life just murk
so i gave you pillars
adjusted from my short legs
lifting you from your knees
as you held tight
to the roses and wine glass
in your hands
and the birds
i could never get them to sing
for you Mutter
my throat unable
to find its stolen words