painted arms poem for Joey

i was led to believe that angels became extinct
that i a wretched sinner would not ever look into their eyes silver slate reflecting the color of God
i was informed that i did not deserve to ascend a rocky road unless the stones beneath my feet trip me to watch me bleed
but out of electricity and behind a curtain of anonymity the angel was and he appeared to comfort the devilish fear of climbing that mountain chosen for me
none the less along our way thorns and thoughts of human scorn did plague me
but this angel with Porciuncula’s history painted on his skin sat with me in the time of my atonement
still so i could hear the rushing of my blood for the first time in my life
then as only angels do effortlessly ushered me into his arms when the gates of heaven broke apart and explained to me that it wasn’t my time now but to follow him back down where real life would unfold once more and that the gods judged fit to send him with me to save me from myself

holes of my salvation army

mbrazfieldm (c) 2024

i don’t want to be a Neruda love poem girl
i want my thoughts to be admired like the turquoise gold around the throat of a hummingbird
i don’t want a boy to be my knight in anything shiny valiant or stunning
i want him to see the blaze inside me through the holes of my Salvation Army black jeans

2 5 1 C

today was a good day
i thought i heard jazz was coming back to LA
its not the be bopping of the choking addict that i mind
or the thumping clacking of the garbage trucks
somehow the sweating forehead of a trumpet player
is far more joyous than me sweating the long wait at the midnight taxi out front in the downtown bar
i can’t wait for the story tellers to be bold
to pluck and beat and tickle pink the ivory teeth of a piano in 2 5 1 C