DTLA

pink paws

/ mbrazfieldm / 8 Comments

The walls spun around as the grains of steamed rice rolled off the table top like drops of mercury. Asian ladies watched in slow motion as thick moisture atop my brow trickled into a stream. My mouth parched and cottony could no longer pass air through my teeth to form words. I used my eyes to find contact, to cry for help. Nothing. Just stares. The breezes coming through to cool down the sweaty wanderers in the buzzing basement had now spun into typhoon winds crashing into my body.

Guatemalan gawkers and Salvy breast touchers hovered over my limp body laid out in crucifix formation on the concrete floor.    

“Nina, nina, are you okay?” said one Oaxacan with a blinking Bluetooth on his left ear.

From where my head laid, I could see the plastic bags filled with pea green plantains, shrimp and Jose Cuervo. One woman with thick legs and a large camel toe bent over me, almost in a bowing formation. I thought I was saved.

“Rafa, Rafa, coll de fire meinz, andale!!” She belted out as she turned her great ass toward my face and the light went out.

No one read minds. Had someone known that my chest was imploding and my soul hovered above me playing poker with John Fante, they would have called for help much sooner.

a genesis with a Dada twist

/ mbrazfieldm / 8 Comments

in the beginning when She did pick oxygen carbon hydrogen and nitrogen and He did stir the clay with hot holy essence all the words in the world were at a finger’s length beyond my reach

so close they were that i then leapt out of the nest of my pink blue galaxy and into the pavement of down town LA the words they did follow in time i’d pluck tiny words for tiny worries and the Nephilim smiled for they knew i was falling

in love with the charge of turning the misery hatred pain starvation violence and rape of it all into the beauty found on the hem of the robe of the Goddess and the wing of a humming bird

that’s reaching for the higher hanging words drenched in the nectar from the Tree of Knowledge i strung them up to detail the anatomy of a broken heart with its crystal shards wrapped in Cleopatra’s linens sanctimoniously tucked away in a Payless shoe box atop an urban closet shelf

of the condemned building in the bosom of desperation and the pool in eyes of children stack did i those words like bricks made of powder to bring the kingdoms down and with the rabble of defeat as i burnt down i built up a nation of wordsmiths

who with their quills pens papyrus key boards tablets and marketing firms wait gingerly drinking lattes on the Stratford Upon Avon wicker chairs

that my English teacher said she dusted for the scribes who mused the signs letter symbols into the dendrites of my mind but not before Allen Will Bill Jack Hank Dylan Langston Lou Bowie Leonard and Ms. Angelou were anointed and leaving me with words less spoken

auxiliary guardian angels

/ mbrazfieldm / 4 Comments

Willie and Big Daddy sat in front of the Seven Eleven from noon till about 4 in the morning except on Sundays when they went to church at the MM Willie had a four dollar a day sun flower seed habit with his Colt 45 Big Daddy liked to comment on women’s asses and cat call on the flaming tight boys who dressed like Duran Duran Willie had gone to Howard in the 70’s and when he wasn’t in psychosis we’d talk about Nijinsky Big Daddy would tell me about the bed bugs at his SRO on 7th and how the Good Lord had saved his life and when the drug dealers and pimps would try to entice me into their cars they would both roll their wheel chairs in front of me and dared them to fight and as time went by and i grew older Willie and Big Daddy faded into the brick walls with graffiti and no posted bills the three of us together were never like anyone thought we should be we just were and they both gifted me with alternate ways of understanding the world and breaking the chains

charm school drop out

/ mbrazfieldm / 16 Comments

it’s very late and the crickets are bedding down in the banana trees for the night and behind the brick walls yes the ones tagged with nonsense the drunkard kings are pissing i’ve been kicked out of many a slummy joint you wouldn’t be the first bouncer to pop that cherry although i give you the fact that i was a little loud when the barkeep wouldn’t take my buck for a bottle of vodka but you understand i’m petite and not of swift feet when i’ve had a few tom collins’ down my gullet ok i get it don’t call my parent’s and that is not my id card but i do resent it when you won’t admit it that i’m the best duker in the bunch and while i have rosy knuckles to prove it let’s not point out last week’s black eye but don’t worry about me by the time i’m in my forties i might have been through a few programs for exceptional drinkers but psychoanalysis has nothing to do with a girl having fun on a Saturday night and by the way can you hold my hair back i feel a wave of chili coming up

apostasia

/ mbrazfieldm / 1 Comment

i love to see Your sunflowers against the purple skyline

Dodger Stadium is to the north and we can hear the tender laughter

then i think of what can happen if You ever got tired of us

the baby cries with hunger and the kings collect their gold

children toil in fields of garbage and the kings collect their gold

women die a thousand deaths of spirit and the soul and yet the kings the

kings collect their gold

the man full of life at dusk while en route to the dawn the poisons of the snakes have found him

i against i

                 i against Your image which is mine

You watch me eternally as i fight against i

the more i do the more i die the more they’re good the more they cry out for mercy

i’d love to see You in the smile of a baby in the streets of Babylon or at the wedding of a girl truly in love

can You smile at the old woman while the sound of the shot aiming at her

blows out

how about in the fevered cancered mind of the split livered alcoholic at the bottom of Bunker Hill

is there mercy in me knowing all the reasons that You hide

or do my resentments keep growing in my belly like a child

why do i have comfort and others do not

los soles no miran

/ mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments

en tu fiebre duermes cada noche

reina de la orilla del mar

gritas y pateas a tus soldados

cuando te quieren llevar

a tu palacio en los altos de esta cuidad

tus mandos sin fuerza

tus joyas sin brillo

y tus zapatillas de seda

solo son heridas de la vida

Norma del Reino de Guadalajara

que haces en mi ciudad

perdida de noche

invisible en los días

la luna no brilla

los soles no miran

que tuyos serán los cielos

os sóis não vêem

na sua febre você dorme todas as noites

rainha da praia

você grita e chuta seus soldados

quando eles querem te levar

para o seu palácio nas alturas desta cidade

seus controles sem força

suas jóias maçantes

e seus chinelos de seda

eles são apenas feridas da vida

Norma do Reino de Guadalajara

o que você está fazendo na minha cidade

perdida à noite

invisível nos dias

a lua não brilha

os sóis não parecem

que vocês serão os céus

the suns don’t see

in your fever you sleep every night

queen of the seashore

you scream and kick at your soldiers

when they want to take you to your palace

on the heights of this city

your orders without power

your jewels dulled

and your silk slippers

they are only wounds of life

Norma of the Kingdom of Guadalajara

what are you doing in my city

lost at night

invisible during the days

the moon does not shine

the suns do not see

that you will inherit the heavens

a polvo regreso

/ mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments

yo se que será el último beso

que juegas conmigo como juegan la lotería

entiendo que solo soy una muñeca fea

pero de algo te sirvo tal vez

con las cicatrices que me he ganado

comprare respeto y felicidad yo sola puedo

y cuando veo que es tu llamada

no tengo fuerza de correr de ti

tus brazos me empujan a los cielos

tus ojos ruegan que quede en infiernos

tu cobardía destruirá mi espíritu y alma

viento triste y penitente me nombrara Camilla

a pó retornar

Eu sei que será o último beijo

que você joga comigo como eles jogam na loteria

Eu entendo que sou apenas uma boneca feia

mas eu estou servindo você talvez

com as cicatrizes que eu ganhei

Eu vou comprar respeito e felicidade eu sozinho posso

e quando eu vejo qual é o seu chamado

Eu não tenho forças para fugir de você

seus braços me empurram para o céu

seus olhos rezam para que esteja no inferno

sua covardia vai destruir meu espírito e alma

vento triste e penitente vai me chamar de Camilla

to the dust i return

i know it will be the last kiss

that you play with me like they play the lottery

i understand that i’m just an ugly doll

but maybe i’m serving you

with the scars that i have earned

i will buy respect and happiness i alone can

and when see that it’s your call

i have no strength to run from you

your arms push me to the heavens

your eyes beg that i stay in hell

your cowardice will destroy my spirit and soul

sad and penitent wind will name me Camilla

-para John Fante com admiração

the midnight 57

/ mbrazfieldm / 7 Comments

for all the life left in his bones he strains to light the cigarette the midnight train is running late he rubs his hands together the mouths to feed are growing into free thinking minds washing dishes at the Shrimp Palace doesn’t buy too many books to stave the pain of the morning news about his lung he smiles at the queens wiggling out of Club La India toward El Tauro taco truck for carnitas and debauchery the midnight train arrives and we both climb in he lets me pass and offers the old legless man his chair the man returns the smile as Valerio’s own smile strains against the hopelessness

welcome Charles Bronson

/ mbrazfieldm / 7 Comments

the Orpheum was the place

to be on Saturday afternoons

with the heat and the stale buttered vapors

seats made of coils some stuffing and velvet

were a dollar 25 each for a matinee with Bruce Lee

dragons and fists delayed come backs and flying weapons

id sit in the dark tootsie rolls melting in my palms

waiting for my Da to bet on his horses

and roll with one of his Misses

during intermission id turn my head round

and was quickly turned to stone by the shine

of the projector and then the lights would

kneel down and welcome Charles Bronson

with the guns and the cars and the wishes

once upon a time

Brahman

/ mbrazfieldm / 5 Comments

Taino although you’re not here anymore the Nirvana Arms still stand tall and even though our friendship was perplexing you taught me morality and how to see the goodness in the least expected people decency is at times not where we think it might or should be

And remember Waverly she’s a lawyer now but back then she was a lost kid we all hated you for calling the authorities on her folks for neglect although it was true we were mostly just tax exemptions religious guilt rescue pregnancies and a terrific pain in the ass to them but you saw us as diamonds in a very rough and unjust place

I learned how to walk in heels layer foundation insert a tampon and fill out job applications because of you and you sat me down to explain why i shouldn’t take my life all the while inside you were already dying against your will

No one came to say goodbye to you not even me and all i could think about was how you tore me away from rapists on Werdin Place and held me tight after the cops came never judged the look of my veins and gave me compassion at levels that until this day it’s so hard to take

Once in a while i see a strawberry blond wig at the Goodwill and smile or at Walgreens the cheap acrylic nail kits you were fond of tug at my very soul at Macy’s the tropical prints you admired and honored me in choosing for you and when we got into trouble and the hoosegow loomed in our future you were always a father and when needed for love advice calling off the school vice squad or a tender non judgmental kick in the ass you were always our mother