wallpaper

mbrazfieldm (c) 2024

it’s too bright now
eyes soulless red stung
see and take note
this can’t be all
the vast void turned
into the window framed
with nothing that was
something in the past
next to the hands
that are cut from
the palms bruises witnessed
how she tried against
the tides of repugnance
the moon births change
the breath shallow grows
exhausted surrenders in the
prophecy of city walls
final mortal sleep tonight
so long clandestine wallpaper

field notes from a bankrupt hopebroker 2.26

mbrazfield (c) 2024

if we could be safe in our seats we could share of our misery shed tears and sometimes maybe smile just because we’ve learned to navigate it doesn’t mean we deserve less than this we too like softness color flowers and art we too like chicory coffee and 5 dollar donuts we too understand the worth of work the taste of sweat and the temperature of let blood we are dignified in our wreckage we stand tall in your false shame we smile kindly forgivingly at your hollow grief for us today we sit on this humble chair where when asked we dissect our terrors and we remain grateful to this stoic chair for holding our hands as we let loose of our fears

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