post med

mbrazfield (c) 2020

there are days not my legs are weak i walk i walk around the city there’s Christmas in my head and the juvenile prophets have an extraordinary urge to tag just any old word on the city walls there are days but i just walk for the sake of walking i have a difficult time noticing the birds because of the writing on the walls and the writing on their face tells the story of how we got to be in this place there are no cherry blossoms no peach trees no lemonade stands this is reality or a reality

north side babies

the dusk is silent
only eddies swirl about my feet
i hear my steps on pavement
come up through my teeth
Mexican bread cinnamon spiced
marries with the hotdog vendors
porky delights
my mind turns to the downtown kids dressed in oversized everything smiling laughing smoking weed back packs on their shoulders
laying on the grass at Pershing Square talking about markers liberty and what’s out there
in the universe they float in
philosophical of thought
passing only on the left hand side
no particular goal today other than just living forever

mbrazfield (c) 2020