done a little dance

right in the middle of your eyes where the universe glows
i can see the future there i go
i tango to the middle
of the nuclear bomb
evaporated into the nothingness of everything in the world
and the world above that world and so forth and so on
i don’t claim to be a physicist
i don’t claim to be anything because i want to tango into the middle of your nuclear bomb
i don’t understand how it got this way
there are sunsets and there are sunrises
and there are suns and there are moons and stars
and i suppose i’ve been told there is a God
but the one who told me is merely a human
how can we know
there is fire
there is hot hot fire
there is very cold ice
there are lights that are just imagination
of those who’ve come before me after they’ve tangoed into your nuclear bomb
in the midnight puddle of water
where the crazy heard the call
to tango into the river of everlasting
that went inevitably wrong
with head underwater
as the oxygen bubbles pop
the cries of angst
burst out at me
mirror mirror in the dark
fade boom atomic tomb

mbrazfield (c) 2020

purgatory

time appears to have gone on forever and there is a big chunk of me whatever i am that has not changed on this day a very long time ago i was granted permission to come into this world to a big city that is just made of legend i learned very quickly that when the sun went down we all bled shit sleep fought hated just like each other no big difference not from the next city over not from the next country over and probably not from other planets today that old cautionary statement we only live above our demons but we never get rid of them swirls in my head i confess at times i don’t know how i think how i see things i don’t even know sometimes if i believe in pain emotional spiritual physical i don’t know the difference at times what does it feel like to be without pain does it feel the same as being in pain don’t know so here i am back at the Cecil Hotel right where i have always been obviously not in body but in soul sometimes when there is no one around to question the fuck out of me and why my face looks or doesn’t look how they want it to look that particular day i wonder am i a ghost i wonder have i been reincarnated i wonder when i look up and down Broadway and Main to the left or to the right and then i look up and turn around and i look at empty shells of buildings where gargoyles used to be decorations masonry ballrooms perhaps so much and then there will be a particular window that enraptures my eyes and i can’t look away and if i squint my third eye i swear i can see her young dark hair big green brown eyes i don’t know what her name would have been maybe Hazel maybe Dorothy who knows not a modern name and then when my third eye blinks she jumps

birds and fig trees

baby birds tucked in the fig tree yelling tweeting at the top of their tiny bird lungs
little beaks automatons
of nature booming from
the hard green fig tree
as i remained faceless
from the gray black trunk
of that biblical tree
i peeped itsy bitsy baby bird
feets hanging on to knots of wood these baby birds browner than brown and oranger than orange
such a concert hall cacophony of teeny tweet tweet prayers

in the 1/60 th

mbrazfield (c) 2020

i never recall at what time it happens the death coveted by bones veins flesh and cells for regeneration not sure anymore where the motivation comes to them my last thought was of “heart of darkness” Conrad did you take my pen i think you’re watching too much news while the truth slips in and out your eye lids he said my plant she sits in her ever patient pot looking at the tree romeo and juliet my third eye is pink today and burns like fire water yet in and out of REM my plant and i glide through the sky her roots firmly pressed in dime store soil and my soul torn out by its tangled roots