purple moon Hendrix

mid day liquor store
sun ablaze wearing gold dress
i sit on milk crate smoking break
from unemployed day
boys girls tourists from Detroit
camera filters flashes and lens
they think im something
but im really nothing more than
a puffer of rings up the sky
beside two buildings
average thoughts baseball innings
hamburger helper bowls
gas prices and cheap strip shows
when they bore of shiny Hollywood
back to hotels and premeditated meals
my arms crossed behind my head
laying on fire escape
conversing with blue moon’s older sister purple moon Hendrix

my life stuffed

between 3 and sunrise shift
my eyes stay wide open
aches of muscle and moments passed
regrets are very minimal
thoughts deftly switch from history
to your lips and how dry and harsh they were to me
then a statistic or two or three
will break the catatonia
my life stuffed into the thought of you only
brings to light that i have wasted precious time

the other stars

at night with the party of stars
the stars in the sky i mean

i sit in quiet tender happiness
on the summer eve sidewalk of Sunset and Vine

my eyes scan the shoes
some old some new
there is history in the step
some style some regrets

at night when traffic dies
buses groan and open their doors
warm freon stink hisses
no one exits they just sit

my hands play
with blue Bic pens and loose sheets
their surface wrinkled tears
happiness of simple truths recorded there

at dawn barley curtains fall
the stars have took their bows
coffee’s bitter cocoa moan
stirs my knees and center

in the newness of the old city yawn
where i died lived and was born
onto this place where my soul has soaked in this world is my happiness

dying calla lilies

quiet night traffic far away
every now and then a pup yelps
a wayward bird sings outside my bedroom tree
on book table black pressed wood
furniture of wayward youth
thrift store jar where my heart lives
a pair of dying calla lilies
representatives of shifts in life
into a phone i type feelings that should have been spoken many years ago
supple tender gentle were my hands
reaching up to the hearts of men
and discovered as i pulled back empty bleeding stumps that they had no love to give me

mbrazfield (c) 2021

i’ll be in good company ii

my good friend at

Unforsenities
https://timsmind390256655.wordpress.com

added this rockin eulogy! thank you Tim 🤟

Old school class and full of brass
commanding attention with her eyes
A princess who tumbled from the stars
who phoenix-like rose again
Flaming fancy fingered magic
on ivory burned bright to the last note
A legend who lived life on his own terms
abrading our ears with his throaty roar
A giant though in stature small
who;s voice and horns pierced us all
forever they will soar together among the stars
may they alight as one on the silver mountain