on Alameda st.

Mbrazfieldm (c) 2024

monsters are worst during the day she thinks slowly mind trailing snail like
their colors the monsters she confirms are like a.m. radio dull warning of their arrival yet
their eyes watch as thirty six who is now old
steps in the puddle with patent leather
baby doll left shoe tarnished forever
on Alameda street

thirty six hears the screams
the burn of fire water cold sweat cold hand
like old silver buffalo she watches
they move with pain purple sprouts twixt
calloused knuckles from fighting air
social malignancy history blithe
we all are on Alameda street

dusk whispers urgency between clenched teeth
the yes daddy girls learn their beat
the lonely boys stretch the meat
nothing changes into double negative
we may all be on Alameda street

i’m with Zoe

mbrazfield (c) 2024

i too want a president who has cried at night wondering where bread will come for their babies tomorrow a president who has leukemia addicted to crack and who goes days without eating lays on the concrete because a roof is unaffordable this president must outrun the voices in their head that tells them to eat rat poison my president must know the feel of a baton beating on their skull for not having money to enroll in Princeton or Harvard and being sentenced to perpetual poverty they must definitely have the wherewithal to spend 12 hours in line at the county office to fill out a five foot tall stack of forms to be considered to qualify for a monthly $225 benefit to pay for the mandatory American dream among other qualities this president must know the stench of a 5 day corpse with cracked ribs no hope who the system failed and blew off it will come in handy to know what it’s like to be called a bitch faggot slut wet back whore nigger spic camel jockey cracker and gook to feel their veins run cold on frightful nights of waiting in deserted bus stops being cat called by pimps with machine guns ready to claim and capitalize on your pussy and i want the president who will never forget that the boss are we the people who know what its like to live day and night under the above circumstances

* inspired by the great Zoe Leonard

sum

mbrazfield (c) 2024

today nothing happened today i saw a red tail hawk a boat on the shoulder a woman smiling a man crying a boy laughing with eyes brown with pride a girl disenchanted no rent signs on the sidewalk a man changing a tire a pile of wood on fire rats filing in line underneath the 110 North a stack of dirty books a trash truck stuck in mud 50 officers handing out Big Macs at the pupusa joint i saw politicos babbling in New Hampshire a park bench without a park stolen laundry hung to dry ramen wrappers on the sidewalk dirty needles by my car tire a man beyond this reality masturbating in the sun i saw thin ducks wading amidst cigarette butts dogs with baby boots a mother blessing her child with a kiss a woman with matted wig in pink and green and as i paused to take a blink the number of people hurting was staggering

drip

mbrazfield (c) 2024

it starts in a flash
we never notice here because
its expected that we agree
to live like this without
complaint and a dosed smile
to be docile and meek
sometimes with fanfare great they
come inspect frown tear up
leave talk into microphones their
grief that its come to
this and then get rushed
to mansions before dinner time

Belinda said

Belinda said i need to book transport to the breath doctor on account i got the lung disease

her voice an angry lament

Belinda said they brung me the oxygen tank then put that shit in my house so i can breathe but they don’t show me how to use it

throat raspy like secondhand pea coat wool

Belinda said she’s mad and she’s gonna call her counselor to take care of me

long polished nails the hue of dried nosebleed red pluck at her Obama phone screen and my phone beeps

Belinda remembered you is my counselor you bitch

wanton bullets

mbrazfield (c) 2023

tonight i have given up
trees comfort me for now
the light waves capture the tones of my tears
tonight the pain of my mind is entertained by the old dried chewing gum patties on the ground
i imagine a plucky child tossing the wad to the ground before his teacher catches him
or perhaps a love struck siren
preparing to kiss her sailor farewell
tonight i don’t want to doubt a higher power and i do not want to believe in the wickedness of us
tonight i stroll numbed to not smell the stench of misery misted by the atomizer of hypocrisy blowing from the Hall
instead my tired eyes are drawn to the gentle softness of the dust lanterns pummelled by wanton bullets of pidgeon shit
tonight i sit quietly accepting nothing and holding everything in my heart