thursday morning

it’s cold
fog morning
cemetary waking up
birds pitch black
mean beaks hell song
yellow eyes like jewels at antique store
flowers stand at ease
giants among the remains of someone’s mother
peace thriving in the land of make believe
worms yawn loudly
slipping in the dew
sky pewter gray
tufts of pink and baby blue
like your dilated pupils
that still seep into my miserable days lowering the golden bamboo blinds
the strong black coffee obsidian in my cup
gaping for molasses
amber golden brown from Canada
Neil Y nameless horses guitars and essence of sand
i sip and i wonder

welcome back tonight

welcome back tonight you sad and pale wolf moon

i thought we were through
pacing and sinking i wrestled you out
only to find you in my heart
why do you come wolf moon unmovable fool
you are a life sentence
when i got born you were there to receive me
when peace took a powder
both faces of the clock urge me to tell you
welcome back tonight you sad and pale wolf moon

will you stop my doubt

i’ll keep pushing you outside
let me lie alone by this brook of dwindling despair

Billie with her lamenting mouth around midnight noon
“I’ve got those Monday blues
Straight through Sunday blues”

welcome back tonight you sad and pale wolf moon

sitting on rooftops you toast your light

on my wild girl hair
with my fingers cramped pull up a comet
lay your silver fire on me

don’t hide away after our tasting
who fell into whose clutches
welcome back tonight you sad and pale wolf moon

rarity

little green cactus

kneeling in the sunlight

coffee soil all around

its white pot-bellied pot

heart calm palms dry

no dust storms in the lights

crooner serenades me

tells me about the days of wine and roses

that have left an unclear life

thoughts dawning

eyes drawn into a book shelf

toys pictures memories

rubbing elbows with Buk and the Bard

while the cats purr the moment away

still my heart calm

arteries stretching out like tiny arms

shut my eyes and wonder how

i can be happier

the prophets of boyd street

cherish your life their eyes say while they take a sip from the poisoned well cherish all life organic beautiful gross untouchable evil or good all of it without boundary cherish the Unknown be wise some day you will know Us don’t question why or how we happen to be here their eyes sang in choir question your heart on how to move your soul onto higher ground all is not what it seems we are all not who you think we might be cherish your mind think think think and question your brother but cherish him as well the time of cheeks is over reason cannot not work without selfless charity from your heart cherish who you are

Queen Sun

gold hot life

resurrection giver

to sleepy weeds soon turned to flowers

spread queenly ample ultra violet thighs across asphalt parking lot

and in betwixt the cracks of crowded city streets

there too there is growth

nurse mother Sun antiseptic in your love

disease and sorrow annihilator

You smile and wrap around my shoulders through my sagging window

and i thank you

brussel sprouts

pine table size 3 wine toned Mary Jane’s from Roebucks and Sears

chair aged and rubbed faded in all the places Sherlock Holmes would investigate

faded Levi jeans holed at the knees fixed with a Wonder Woman patch

Tupperware plate off beat psychedelic green and she sipped her hootch from fine bone China

blue eyes to me liver and onions gold chains on her cleavage and one scrambled egg on her rye toast and butter

Starsky and Hutch were fixin’ to start and those damned brussel sprouts between me and the screen

then the neighbor comes by and they both lose their minds over some CBS scandal

now is my chance i run to the trash flip up the flap and in goes the midget cabbage

and i watched my whole show practiced the Huggy Bear victory stroll while celebrating my four year old courage

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