purple petals

when i was a teen girl

i had a teen boy lover

he was broken like James Dean

and like Brando a real bad ass mutherfucker

he kissed with a platinum tongue

as we walked along the Venice sand

he’d get into fights

all bloody and bruised

but we still caught the moonlight

sucking on the booze

we’d fuck until we couldn’t walk

not because of sex or anything

but because of all the glue we huffed

those were wild times

in the eyes of other people

to a punk skater kid

of broken inner spirit

the life style was his fort

me i was just a wanna be

looking for a Trojan Horse

to leave this solar system far behind

by sixteen i’d been dead so many times

and had gotten taken advantage of by force

all because of it

Blaine with the dirty blonde mohawk

my only refuge that boy was

we swore our love

with Sharpie marker anarchy tattoos

and shared pizza crusts

from the dumpsters down on Zephyr

at night we’d find some Gypsy camp

and howl unto the face of angels

howling at the moon just seemed so trite

but when we’d look in each other’s eyes

there were no stars in them

like with the Montagues’ and Capulets’

just an existential escape past our sullied souls

knowing that we had no plan

just living for the day

no flowers in my hair

no money for the Goddamned fare

from desperation blvd. to hole ave.

just me and Blaine alone together

simultaneous fear and madness punching in the air

we lived like Cohen and the Beats

the Velvets and Andy and Billy Name

we talked about fascism and Ollie and the gang

La Revolucion y El Che

we talked about other times

his aunt Myrtle’s minced meat pie

Constantinople and even Hemingway

he read about the Bolsheviks

while i adored Bukowski

he slept in the LA Central Library

on my bony dirty lap

one of the most beautiful

and sacred memories of my life

was my chipped fingernail polish

fingers picking out two tiny

purple flower petals

from his gentle baby hair crown

Venice beach man

i love the way you look at me

almond blue eyes laden with innocent sin

i love the way you steal a kiss from me

and sometimes hold me down

by my cat-like wrists

and tell me how you’ll take me

i love the texture of your ear

on my tongue rugged and sun burnt

crisped by the sea salt and the sand

i love to hear the song

of your primitive throat when you cum

i love how you scold me when i’ve had

one too many of the L36s

and i respect you

as a man who tells it how it is

with compassion while you grieve

for the slow motion death of my free spirit

urbanness

my forest concrete

slabs winding wires swing high

moon down we whisper

Photo by mbrazfield 2019

truth or chance

take

my heart

tumble it

beating for you

gamble take the risk don’t make me wait long

Russian roulettes corner me black on red

kiss me where it

hurts me more

then go

truth

just

lip deep

i love you

not today dare

to be a fool you might win the game prize

i’m willing to pawn my life for a mere

cold twist of fate

we might find

that we

bleed

nail

the wind is beautiful soft blue

tonight the moon is quiet just a giggle in a hush

i wait and i call in my thoughts they are impetuous children

while my soul walks on sunset’s shores alone

the sewers carry my logic atop the roads i see the cliffs

down to the ocean gravity tolls a bell

where i wait in the dark for Venus to glow

where i feel your salty cold hands in a fast fading memory

in my imagination cherry tree in symphony

deep down in the last hope hands no longer clasped

of my heart i know not where or what to say

the trance broken by an old girl

starry are her purple eyes

she asks for a smoke

smiling i shrug my shoulders

she comforts me for not having the vice

little does she know

the habit of you  in my soul

inhibits my mind

forever

cigana

for much of my youth i went from one corner of Hollywood to another the moon a constant companion except when she had to escort the beautiful ones in being a juvenile vagabond laid a certain freedom but too much of it lead to complicated cages at 17 with about two packs of everything bad on a daily i flourished in education book and otherwise yet i couldn’t remember much of my childhood it might have been a good thing nevertheless i loved my freedom to drink or stare at antiquities at the museum for hours and hours or maybe sleep in the library and eat onion rings at Astro’s the beach was nice at 1 p.m. on Tuesdays i really loved the hand of the wind on my shoulder and the seagulls chasing me as i threw crumbs of French baguette at them oh how i smiled and laughed

fortune teller

the sticks under my bare feet are wet

with dew from the shore below i’ve

walked and have spoken silence

to my mind and cannot

reconcile or come

to an accord

sing to me

gently

soul

circle

the round drop

rolls down      a breeze of air slips by

the world ends    and begins again

on the edge of the sun

the tarot cards

they say things will be good

the suns and the deaths

keep showing up

and my breath it cuts short

they say to hang on but

to let go of my addiction

to the one i ask for

the pressure of faith is insurmountable

in the middle of the night

when the fear is greater

i draw a fool

going nowhere in a circle

Geronimo on the way to the fair

balmy sweeps of crusty air circle your pinky bike facing me
swooshing by our old galaxy eyes lock
and the heavens swirl about me slow-like
Amir asks why i go the way i go
and i can only answer like your palomino did
dead eye girl Geronimo it is you i know
half a mile up we smell the food of your enemies
blowing south to the seas of cactus
to the west the pale horse peddles in fire water and gold

Geronimo in young girl cloak bronze face
with ancient snakes of worry
oh Lizard King forgive me your blue Amir rides with me tonight through your love streets
nananananana
which were originally mines alone
remarkable girl-Kachina i do admire your courage
on the corner sitting on that pinky be-wheeled palomino
dying slowly slowly slowy a tiny bit a day

Geronimo in your eye
ghost molecules need penetrate my blood with artificial healing
that Philadelphia bell tolls nine
women spirits whose skies rip open oozing snake oil gods
to slither in my soul
choking out our spirit through scattered thoughts
rusty lights broken smile dream dropper
Lizard King hotness in my bones
sonic pulsing in my ears typing on electric stones
thinking of learning to drive the reigns
 
Geronimo girl eye pinky palomino i in blood
to the fair with the flags inky pinky vibes
broken veins broken flowers jesters laughing
deer dances hidden ghosts at the shin of the God so long ago roaming in this tired wind
ride little Geronimo eyed girl
Amir
the cactus
the sky
the gold
and the King
sit for you in corners to catch you riding west forever…