burn

a fire erupted in Lebanon of which i know nothing of about it came in a dream i think i was half alive halfway gone into a forbidden slumber i thought about my life many many years back i thought about the people who have had an impact and how a lot of things went wrong i thought about the lucid dream i had of the bronze daughter of Eve Celedonia she called me by my true name she said your name is California i paid her no mind i thought it was just my acid trip and then reality struck upon my mortal lips i screamed like i had never screamed before Satan was laughing by my door and i saw myself burn never the houses of the rich and never the souls of the poor and always the souls of the rich are never to be found upon a cold and icy rest the bronze daughter of Eve Celedonia she called my name and said you are California blood will run through your face blood will run between your legs you are the nest of the trafficked California from head to toe said Celadonia you are damned you must fall you will fall onto the ocean of the tribal Kings that ruled this place so many years until Morrison sang about them

Mr. Keith Richards

ever since i was a kid i’ve always had a very vivid imagination mostly because i needed to get away i was too little to drive too little to get a job to make money to take the bus so the only place i had was deep inside my mind so time went by my body stretched my brain gathered more wrinkles and my eyes widened and then the shit hit the fan there were some days where the fan just fell off the ceiling there was so much turd on the blades then there were days when the fan was happily located on the ceiling in the hole with the wires that it was supposed to have swirling around and around doing its job with the moths going in and out of the little lamps shaped like butter cups there was no shit then maybe just a minor fart maybe it was me eating sauerkraut straight from the jar ya follow me Mr. Keith Richards and after a while teachers took notice they got all nosey sent me to see the psychologist called my mother called my father ring ring ring no one bothered so they thought i was special they had no idea how special i could be but i was a relatively well-adjusted child growing up in Hollywood and all you’d be surprised just how fucking well-adjusted i was ya follow me Mr. Keith Richards anyway so as a story goes and i forget where it goes cuz there’s just forks all over the place let me see let’s go to the fork with all the drugs and alcohol oh yeah all of them early on hard living on the edge before and after the edges give or take a few centimeters ya follow me Mr. Keith Richards anyway so long story short made long cuz mainly my fan is starting to show up again on this ceiling i’m in love with a man who lives with a clown and a possum but that’s an entirely different story love is a strange thing i remember when i was a teenager love was a Clash song or like Talking Heads or something like that and punk rock was like really romantic and like you know the Rolling Stones you know your band ya follow me Mr. Keith Richards was pretty cool too even though you guys were old even then but that’s not the problem anyway as i was saying my man lives with a clown and a possum no lie i’m not making this up i’m not even on any kind of drugs legal or illegal i’ve been dry for a really long timethis is just my brain my brain on reality what do i do you ask Mr. Keith Richards well i think a lot i like to fancy myself like a famous writer like a real deep thinker like William Burroughs sorry i don’t mean to name drop but Burroughs kicks ass anyway so yeah like i was saying yeah i say a lot cuz i’m like trying to knit my thoughts to have a cohesive conversation ya follow me Mr. Keith Richards anyway i’m not really sure why i’m here in my dream talking to you like you’re supposed to be my shrink right but you’re here i guess because the guy i’m in love with loves your band The Rolling Stones ya follow me Mr. Keith Richards anyway i’ve lived many many many years in downtown Los Angeles and it’s gone through a lot of intersectionality you know but i don’t know man like the ghosts are still there you know the systematically and psychologically disenfranchised the homeless skid row has just like fucking spread out to infinity and our politicians don’t seem to think that it’s a bad problem you know they don’t have to live on top of each other they don’t have to live on donated tents they possibly have not fought in foreign wars and came back to America just to get fucked over you know they’re not culturally marginalized i used all of the ism’s you can find ya follow me Mr. Keith Richards i don’t know how to explain the world anymore i just kind of walk around and around and around and then sometimes i look up at the sky and there’s this huge ass ceiling fan and the blades look like a chopper and they’re like spinning and spinning and spinning and we’re all down here pushing shopping carts and i’m giving them my empties because that’s all i got yes ya follow me Mr. Keith Richards yeah sometimes i feel pretty bad cuz like i have a place to sleep at at night i have people i can call when ifeel like i want to cry and i’m in love with a man who lives with a clown and a possum ya got that Mr. Keith Richards anyway before i rudely interrupted myself i wanted to tell you that living in LA is really starting to bother me she’s drowning my beautiful angel womb where i was born and grew up is drowning in shit i can’t stand it anymore ya dig me Mr. Keith Richards anyway what was i talking about oh yeah i’m in love with a man who lives with a clown and a possum and it’s really hard cuz it’s just the clown and a possum and there’s not much you can do with that all i know is that i’m in love with that man and he likes your band Mr. Keith Richards for your sake i hope that this dream ends really fast cuz i’m starting to bore myself you know i really don’t smoke or drink or use drugs anymore that’s all in the past i think that’s why i got so lucky to fall in love with a man who happens to live with a clown and a possum anyway Mr. Richards i won’t bend your ear anymore i think that my 45 minute session is up i really thank you for letting me wear this really cool bitching ass hat but you see i got places to go i got things to see i got ceiling fans to dust i gotta fart and i’m grateful to you Mr. Keith Richards you crazy old son of a bitch love your music man and i love a man who lives with a clown and a possum

mbrazfield (c) 2020

forrest for the trees

photo by Rob Banks (c) 2020

alone
world at his fingertips
one
the wires carry all
crossing
the borders of time
boundaries
broken at hyper speed
to
win a race with out tracks
heal
his eye artificially at a glance
the
megabytes of dying ghosts
need
of any host the mark
of
godly hands to drill us in
the
when all is lightning sting
human
dust nothing to breathe but
spirit

in preparation

time sits on the shelves
next to all the dreams
just an index finger’s length
out of reach
her side of the wall
sustains the portraiture
of her bloodline
his side the world’s articles of hate
never knowing of each other
going about their life
the wall that separates them both
in between the unseen darkness waits for them
patiently there void of light
and when that time marches from its sitting place again
to guide their souls into the other world
the ego skin from them will finally be shed

She waits for us

no answer is also an answer

🦅 Hopi Proverb

to stare into the blank horizon

it lacks the pastel colors mother used to love

we the silent types proud and self assured cowards or lost fools

makes very little difference

to tighten my jaw as you purse your lips we know what we are thinking

we have no answer for what is happening to us

all we are not willing to admit that She is critical because of our silence

are we prepared for what comes this way as Her pulse tires and slows

the silence without bird songs is the vilest way to perish

sevenbones

the dream menu comes it’s passed around to random strangers as we zig zag through the 2nd street tunnel lined with ceramic tile once virgin white now black as desert sky my favorite graffiti walls cryptic messages like seven bones in my life i’ve only broken 8 we are used to this air nose hairs full of stuff a little boy picks at his scabs and momma holds his cup the number 81 to Eagle Rock plaza goes but we’re not ready for the home bound road instead i cruise ball heel toe over to Grand Central and order a cheese pupusa that i don’t eat and don’t know why i bought from the corner of the eye i see the three delicious ones with mint julep eye lashes calling each other a dirty trollop after a few search engine insults trollop Sassy Ass #1 goes to the ladies washroom to turn back the hands of time on her five o’clock shadow she says Adam’s apple gliding up and down i lose interest quickly as i smell a puff of clove and delay the inevitable loneliness of thought by joining the awe and admiration of booth A23 and their giant Jack fruit bowl a delicacy for the valiant but not for me today and i begin to miss Walt Whitman even though he’s never met me and Lash Larue movies on Sunday afternoon when life was very simple like begonias in the sun with the savory lure of schnitzel and Ute Lemper singing songs

4th

gold line passes through there

four tribes meet and they have been for longer than i can ever know

one Meso one Afro one Europe one Orient peoples beautiful all

same hearts one dream different strokes same same same

the bridge is there she lays on her mighty back we cross not just concrete slabs but worlds too

colors flavors scents labor dignity and the human ego of course

united by segregation of their color segregated from each other by being throw an occasional bone starving of their soul

but upon closer honest sober observation on days of rainbows i can see where the tears are stitched to form the Nation where i stand

we are Los Angeles

riots marches torn down houses strikes children centers Lakers unity churches merchants Mexican chop suey Columbian Korean fusion Woody’s ribs Lupe’s tacos Italian house Red Hot Chili Peppers surfers boarders models ballers

the four directions on the 4th street bridge and what it’s come to be and what we’ve become by it is the rainbow children of our Lady

so before the Hall keepers House gablers blues reds and judge and juries request your seats mind and remember

Porciuncula and her kids do lead and ever will this vast kaleidoscope table