body parts
Loss
splinter
i hope you look at me
from across this blue bed
immersed in your man business
i immersed in a primal hot urge
turn around i command you
i laugh in my head
i crouch quietly like a tigress
licking my lips fantasizing
of your thirst quenching sweets
raw essence on my pulsating tongue
waiting for you to turn off
the computer lights
and turn on my gyrator circuitry board
i’m bathed
i’m slicked in the patchouli you love
my t-shirt the loose one with LA Kings GO!
flash you a warning i do hope you know
that when you lay here
i’ll nuzzle your neck
tug at your ear
lick down the center
of your bristly chest
and right when i reach there
the music comes on
you get sentimental
and you pull me on up
to kiss and to hold me
and call me your love
that’s when it’s ruined
and i start to crumble inside
i know that you told her
the same thing last night
archetypes
those final days before his death were joyous for the both of us vanilla ice cream sundaes jack daniels at night splashing in the water breathing like fishes when your sister turned the cold garden hose on us then a five minute rain fell from the sky a rainbow above the 101 months later i would cry walking the streets of north Hollywood holding the black Kaiser helmet you wore nothing sweet to eat all the drink in the valley useless piss to me why am i still stuck my water was fire your water akin to John’s cleansing river never could i place flowers by your grave and the orange blossoms are falling down origami mornings freedom of the ride spirit of the brave old Jung cut with different scissors but we both bled the same i’m grateful the rainbow was there for you
for a wild Irish boy
tempest in your name
wild love ripples through my soul
tease me rowdy wind
periodic emissions
i must’ve needed the pain you gave me
it started like a dream knowing always
that it wasn’t meant to be because of odds
i was so very screwed in the head
my compass smashed by consequential hammers of life
you were what i needed then
but you came not to me without your complications
we didn’t make love
i don’t even think i know what that is today
it’s not been explained in anything i ever read
least of all not there when you’d touched me
we fucked like animals and it was explosively good
and i’m not ashamed i have no regrets and i’d do it again
you cautious i free
all of which was good and partly wholesome
after my fifth reincarnation
i can now admit i was looking to die
you were the perfect trigger
cruel mean handsome strong smart older
and so very wrong for me
i the perfect foil
in the hunt that men love
gullible vulnerable presentable stupid educated young
i have aged since then yet i haven’t grown
i’m a perpetual socially functioning adult
with the soul of the song of the lone barn owl
in the dead of a rainy frosty northern night
as the minutes pass every now and again
they stab me slash me and run away laughing
with the memories of your bristly mouth
alternately between my lips and my breasts
my neck and my legs
your rough skinned hands clasping my wrists
to keep me from jumping
your honey yellow eyes who wept
with me at our miscarriage
and your graying temples
where the kind lies of indiscretions were confined
if i still smoked i’d light up
after some of the dreams i’ve had of you
i miss our chemistry animalistic
sloppy sleepless rough bitter
with the right amount of intensity and ambrosia
i miss your manly scent woodsy of earth like Adam
the reverberation of your voice
on my navel
stolen nectar
you blue humming bird
i orange blossom opened
satisfied you go
paging Dr. Burroughs, Dr. Burroughs please…
WS i don’t feel that well tonight
the stars are covered in dust and grime
and the corner store doesn’t have the Windex i like
i’ve listen to Thelonius on Bluetooth
and Ravel’s Bolero till the landlady came
to shut me up it wasn’t even that loud
i struggle Billy Bull Baby i see you
in dreams of course with your suits and balding
beautiful head but your brain really turned me on
i’ve been going back and forth for three days whether i should
go to Daikokuya’s for a ramen bowl but i just don’t have the gumption
i think i’m depressed again the tears run like Jesse Owens and i have no interest in making
them stop
W im in head first in the Interzone of my own doing
for hours i sit on the kitchen counter
looking out for the little brown birds who eat the last
pomegranates of the winter and wonder where the
first half part of my life went but i worry more
that i have no specific certainty where my last half is
going
can you read me a bed time story my favorite is “Green Eggs
and Ham”
work by mbrazfield 2001
Seth 3: Christina’s rebuke
the road she is cruel and with little respite
but i made it to Your house
with the help of Ruach Elohim
i can raise my knuckles to Your door
and knock to be let in
YWHW this is your daughter
the mother of the boy
who is now in your eternal care
i see his hands and eyes and smile
in the wild flowers waltzing on the ground
i traversed the firmament all this way
for You to look me in the face
and give me a reason
because i’m only Your daughter
and i don’t know anymore
did You give Abraham his bosom
from these stones that hold Your strength
my bosom is torn wide apart
forsaken forgotten and in pain
the glimmer in the joy of light
that showers Your front steps
no longer bring me comfort
YHWH
You and i know what love can be
we both sent our sons
unto the world of man
but only Your’s came back
where did Opa go
accordions were not of import to me
until you were no longer there
the caramel and gray plaid La-Z-Boy chair
sat gaping at the ceiling wondering as i was
where did Opa go
we didn’t really talk no one taught me how
instinctively you knew though
that i loved your oversized navy blue trousers
and your red suspenders
except for the lederhosen not my style
regret burns hotter at night
while i sit silently on the kitchen counter
alone in the dark sometimes with pained wrists
and old cracked ribs dislocated in my youth
sit along beside me good times
where did Opa go
time rippled down your face
porcelined and freckled
both by illness and by cure
you would stare at mom’s cat
as the din of Lawrence Welk
seemed to echo from the corners of the room
where did Opa go
remember when i was 13
my socks were old and dingy
five sizes too big
and as you shook your head
you took out $50 from your wallet
and motioned me to get new socks
i just shrugged and smiled
turning my back on you
Mutta’s fancy mirror
stabbed me with
your puzzled dewey face
at my ignorant rejection
why did i let go
Opa
Seth 1: Replacement
waking up mouth dry parched soul
death came to warn me
she was a great sullen oak
an oracle to the fallen
angels who peeked out from her
“be good or else child”
in life i had taken more
than i could really handle
words less spoken 