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

demander au ciel bleu

mbrazfield (c) 2020

when my mind was little

the skyscrapers were tall

God was big too

the streets were filled

with faces strong that walked alone in my drowning dreams

the functions of my body not under my control

and when the body seasoned into what men had sought

it was as if a flock of doves had scattered from my soul

the moon was maiden too long before my birth and then was trampled on her light fallen from its grace

but today i read about a boy and trees his looking for the life that did live underneath

the soil of creation and where someday i will be

looking at the captivating blue glass crystal skies waiting for His words

🌠thanks to my friend Stephen @ https://fullbeardlit.org/2020/04/08/along-this-path-a-five-oclock-poem-by-stephen-fuller-with-audio for inspiring this offering

my gown


look beyond my dark thick gown
be strong and courageous
God is all around me
but you must look past my heavy gown
my light my freedom never closes
for i am not a door without a knob
look beyond my cowebbed gown
but make sure that you clasp your thoughts hand
you will need them for this journey
take time and show me that you are opening a window breathe liberation in
when the threads and seams of my tightly stitched sleeves imprison you
open your heart and push on through
the light is closer than it seems
there will be times when you’ll get lost amongst the blackest gauze of my deceptive petticoats
you will ache cry curse moan writhe in madness
dont be afraid to use the sharpness of righteous diligence to cut on through
don’t be afraid of my gown
within it lay your wings

flown

time sits condensed like grandpa’s old Valvoline tucked under the back porch steps

i’ve flown away from my soul this morning before the hummingbird came to mourn

the landing will happen later today when Ursula preps her beet salad i think that’s when it will happen

nodding trailing sinking from the surface tadpoles file in and soon enough will leap with a part of me

there i am i will paint now i can’t catch myself but there’s a little blue pain that aches to be laid out on rice paper from the kitchen drawer

in your eyes

dew sets on single flowers to brew a scent that will waken a sweet child like chaos in your eyes

just like our simultaneous pleasure propelled from the steepness of our throats

so do your eyes open like the flower to cast a honeyed gray net upon my will

while on your arms i walk alone afraid of wanting more of the white hot thrusts into my sinning soul

i have no shame or guilt or debt i give myself completely let your fingers lead me to the green mile of your eyes

let me serve as your last meal before you move on to the next

and when you’re done i’ll lick you clean i’m ready to be tossed unto the dying wind gambling that this time the pain will end forever

Sunday with Hank

pain without reason you said i understood immediately but Hank aren’t we born into this situation

forever we seek to understand is pain the ultimate secret knowledge Hank you’re there with Buddha is that what he found

women understand but in the end we are all human what’s between our legs is incidental

i’ve stood on city sidewalks on the streets you’ve lived on and everything is the same the rat race is quiet in most places

i love watching the angels downtown we are a rainbow of gray brown and black

some in the name of ethics money and pretense call it trauma or grieving or processing events

to be beat raped tortured sodomized insulted belittled ignored and cast aside drugged whipped lied to and left to die some of us in shame and lies in the most dangerous of nuclear families

Hank you’ve been away from me remember DeLongpre i used to stay there too and how many more places we have been it’s been so very long

your thoughts and absolute surrender to the madness of our lives you painted beauty in it’s natural form although it wasn’t what they thought

hey baby since you’re up there in the clouds can you ask the Main Man for me when you aren’t too busy now

if the reason for our mortal pain is so we will seek Him out

the will nots

this is your city filled with pigeons dogs and the likes of you children i have bred wild children of the zodiac keepers moon howlers zoo keepers of your selves

pic by mbrazfield (c) 2019

through my gutters there has never been a dainty lady that has crossed i am not bent to subscribe to what chains me daughter here are my children

mural pic’d by mbrazfield (c) 2019

waste makes haste to a life that is riddled by pain we are strong we are one but we can’t be here forever keep me i am your queen little angels in designer jeans

Pic by R Brazfield (c) 2019

forever rip roaring renegade chingona silver screen teen dream exalted to the clouds of gasoline el lay dismay you will not subscribe to fantasy when i am right in front of you

pic by mbrazfield (c) 2020