for Yayoi

in the depth of night between the filigree of moon light crystal insect words make little dotted noises in my brain since i can tell of time it wasn’t until now that i could see beyond the webs fog frustration confusion and fear toads scream and vines in the desert of my mind appear taking my breath in a zone beyond my flesh finger tips where i continue my monthly sins of my father installments bones collapse beneath the waves of chemicals from my fields of breathless hours what in heaven will i do if i know not what it demands the taco stands teem with hunger for all the wrong things on Broadway and 7th where life begins from vapors

what does it mean

mbrazfield (c) 2024

by the dirty window i sit
to watch people survive
there is no pool with living waters
no eternal flames
perhaps a rancid puddle
radiation fuming through
and a block away chalk lines
in the fetal position
my ego dies at the end
of the morning
there is a warm toxicity
in their eyes
we all beg in different ways
my lips half ass parted in warning
synapses remind me i should let be
and watch it unfold
like a ledger owed
in this house of spoiled wealth

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