shine my ghost

eyes still sleepy
stiff coffee steam
outside ghost droplets
peek into windows
of careless dreamers
still life kitchen
soul stare bright
today no pain
just gray scale
melodies down below
rise like sun
shine my ghost
away rest now
lillies soon grow
fog ghost soul
evaporate into sky

mbrazfield (c) 2021

first tree in the palace

i believe it was last night or possibly the night before last
i don’t know it’s been about 53 hours off and on insomnia
watching news programs
no music
no music for about a week
feeling very tired
Christmas 2020 is upon us
i miss the world
i’m not sure what’s going on
i stepped outside
i saw the faces
covered muzzled no joy in their eyes
and i live among peoples who are very jubilant
my heart sank
last night or possibly the night before
the sickness came
cold sweat
tears
headache
heart jumping out of throat
fear irrational dark squeezing fear
i thought i had been dreaming about Queen Victoria and that first tree in the palace
i thought i felt the snow from Utah
i thought i smelled the stench from downtown
i thought i saw the lights from my Christmas tree go out
then i thought i saw Mary Magdalene touching my menorah
putting out its lights
when i was able to gather my soul and stuff it back down my throat
i sat at the edge of the bed
my cats trembling in the closet
looking at me 6 big bright eyes the Pleiades
i thought and i smiled
i went into the restroom washed my face with cold cold water
fingers shaking causing tiny little droplets to congregate around the bathroom sink surrounded by bottles of hygiene
there was no wind
there was no noise
unseasonable quiet
every other home that i saw through my window dark
no laughter of children
no blow up snowman
no nothing
not even a lonely bug or a spider
i imagined
i really should try to rest
i really should try to stop watching the news
i really should just stop and catch my breath
i was watching The History Channel the other day
they had a Bible soap opera and Jesus was very glamorous all of the Persians
wear eyeliner it looked very chic
then i thought about Bukowski’s  Dinosauria, We poem
i think he was a prophet
that drunken old fool
i’m sending you hugs and kisses Buk
i think sometimes i think too much
but nothing worth a sigh
nothing worth anything at all
i will relax
i tell myself
i will relax
i will pour myself a tall glass of black coffee  pour molasses very slowly
i shall stir
i shall not want cigarettes
i shall not desire a little drink 
i shall not touch any needles
i’ve been so very good
i’ve been so very good
yes i remember now it was last night
it was full of terror
good thing about this dream
was that i could not hear myself scream
i wouldn’t want to cause any problems
i wouldn’t want to scare anyone
cold cold sweat
cold cold hands
cold cold brow
i smile today at the bouquets of sunflowers 
i thought about Vincent van Gogh
how would he wear a face mask
the poor devil only had one ear
these are the thoughts
that pushed the other thoughts
but i don’t want to think about it
i walk through the grocery store aisles
looking for noodles
looking for broccoli and brussel sprouts
my favorite
i passed on the candy bars
no good i say
i pay and i get into my car
for a short but silent drive home
i climb up the stairs
very carefully this time
i open the door and then
i’m in a desert
i could feel the heat radiating on my
cold cold brow
i look around
i’m no longer wearing any clothes
instead i wear a coat of serpents
i can feel my arms flailing
hoping to cast them off
i try to wake up
i try to leave the desert
during my morning coffee
i recall what had happened
i look in my refrigerator
there are no brussel sprouts
there was no Coca-Cola zero
no broccolini
but i thought about going for a walk instead needless to say i didn’t make it out the door again today
instead i tied ribbons on my Christmas tree
i have to say i  like Victoria’s style

mi amor

mbrazfield (c) 2020

we stand on soil and dried blood
my window from my grave looks to you
staunch proud vulnerable and loud
you smell of shit but yet hike up your skirt
that makes my mind get a hard on
deeply i breathe and think thoughts
that only you and i can decipher
like when i chased that first dragon
down your Chinatown manhole covers
or when i kissed your cold flat marble walls
you and i
you filthy whore a threesome with a snarl

falling feathers

black feather floating from the sky piercing gravity on it’s way to the ground where its little gray tips will be dampened with winter weep i stare at cranes by the river’s bed standing on a stick like leg waiting for the shooting stars for miles and years i’ve been right here looking up at falling feathers

mbrazfield (c) 2020

ptsd

your fingers  cured as leather
surprise my cheek and bottom lip
by instinct i recoil
i know you felt it
i smile face looking down
you look at the alley
changing the subject
to how fast flowers die
after being picked without chemical support
by instinct i recoil
paranoid that you might be talking about me
later on in the cobalt night
sitting on my kitchen counter
hoping that maybe those lived in fingers
might think of caressing me again

tired like Kaufman


the sun is out she wears orange
freckles are her spots that cause chaos
upon the lines in the sand yesterday
the avocado trees gave without regret green
they were now the willows hang there
i just another organism single celled alone
yes the grass blades dewey with blood
from shedding flower cannibals deep among clouds
then the bus explodes its breaks the chosen
ones get off weighed down by sad
moons broken heart he a stoic far
beyond the grasp of the Neptune comic

wet dream

sheets wrap what is left of me

apple wood scent fills the air California burns again and again

all organs supple still throbbing where they need to

thrilling fancies pool around my head eyes closed your face i read in the darkness of it all

lips brush tenderly drinking of my well from dark to light no one dispels the rumours that encircle you

in your hands i am burning like Califa queen arms let go no pressure felt safety net falls into hell

the grail lays on it’s broken side empty in your hands it once stood brimming with love scent intoxication down the surface of my legs

in your hands my history of civilization lips give way to carnal cries teeth gnash eyes shut tight

the comet passes through my skin truth lies in secret screams revealed

to me you’re just a dream