Saturday, November 17, 2007
Even the machine in the window cannot hum louder.
Nor the autos sputtering and rocketing determinedly
across tin timidity and sky. Throbbing metropolis of tripas and hidagos;
This sprawling device I’ve devised down to the twist of a wire--
Snip and scorch. I’ve mattered prior to this. To this fluid
Where we convince cicadas to prowl relentless ballads for majesty that
Won’t exist, not for insects; I conjure mattresses on which to expound
this thing that’s happened between me and you. I say I may be
back—watch my diligence expand, watch my red mouth bloom so
Saturday, October 13, 2007
You were the one I called two-star,
Obsidian-skinned and tiny enough to swallow!
A thousand moons ago you embarked to us.
Trajectories of comets and cataclysms, amid
Asteroids as large as worries: the sound of your
Fantastic flight—the voyage of a xolo’s howl.
Ay, how I could cup you in my ear, chiquito, and
hear all that you’ve seen and have come
To us to impart, correct, heal, illuminate—that drum
That pounds elemental messages like constellations into
The velvety mouth of dawn. I see you still, Citlalin,
A journeyed star, strong enough to
explain the bleakest patches of my own failed eyes.
Arrivals. Arrivals. Infant as wise as the light of an ancient
Life form. Today, I set light to the earth, and cried and tried, yet,
no trumpets to announce you’d left us arrived,
except this hardened conch swollen up like a heart that yowled
in this cavity I’ve known as chest.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Saturday, August 04, 2007
With this papaya, I
Cultivate hours that are soon an amalgamation
Of years; this span of prickly stillness, that nimble blur,
Which is already bone and tongue; and
My heart has stirred and parted,
That lucid, timid part that no one sees, no one privy,
You have the eyes for such a sight;
Precise, that vast intensity you carry
Like breath in the pocket of the lung of the eye,
Simón—esos ojitos; and for this, I promise laughter
in the portraiture of our truck,
Uninhibited laughter, colossal as air;
Promise, herein, to hold your thick
Familiarity in the cavernous expanse that is
My belly, the quinto chambers of the nopal
I’ve assembled into a corazón;
Tonight, the rabbit of the moon on my thighs, where
Your lips dance as Catrinas and Cortezes
Pirouette; a crescendo of
A painter’s suspiro;
All these seeds of papayas, all these seeds of promesas
Cascade over throat muscle and the hard
Arroyo of the vein that runs the terrain
Of all I have to give and have had taken in life and
Am offering to you, guey;
Remember when you said,
Damn, chulo, with those lips and those eyes,
I could spend some serious time…
Friday, August 03, 2007
for my Hyperion
Ajar. Tar. Tar seethes
Into asphalt wounds. Wonderland never
Appeared so thawed. Rueful equilibrium!
Appease me, now, hours. For soon, I’ll soak these
Tattered toes in gentle buckets of
Milk so white, the fur of doves will emerge
Goat-like and inveterately doomed.
And the clouds have all curdled. Testaments:
Traffic gnarls. Exposes jagged rows of
Metal. Casualties so contorted and
Impatient—entire jowls serrate, separate.
iii. Downtown San Anto
To the beat of aluminum alloy beasts,
Jaundiced eye sockets twitter. Attachments.
Allowances. Barbados and pajaritos!
Anxieties toss cakes of silence beneath tire treads;
My ardor for you is explicit.
Ay, monarca wings and 5 am unrequited clutching!
Resolve enigmas among these odd clots of clouds.
I-37, I favor pechos festooned with blooms
of xoloizcuintlis, Spook Light cicatrizes.
In las palmas, I ascend to summer and reconcile
the stars. Incurably, I carry away the sun.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
My allegiances pledged to vatos and one verga.
A vow to vacuum and wax these cuerpos that are
All alloy and homeboy chrome.
Termites gouge eyes in the box spring
I dragged from the cold room in Coahuila when
Chirps and chortles cuff that esophageal splatter
I hacked up over that turgid cena of puerco and pan.
This is the belligerence of la verdad stuffed in the
Disposal bin innards of lions and xorizo hybrids and
Parables of busted-up lawn furniture belonging to Laura Leon.
Signal, sigh, bump a rolla or a cuento, throw a lil cruise—
Of grackles, of the giant cloud-bound bird de San Benito
Eyeing all of us as bait. Triple sheen!
Dos Mujeres! Un Camino! Amen!
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
In this heat I unfurl.
Difficult as armadillo traversing all of
Hidalgo County, and my skull so small,
You could crush me in one flex
Of wrist muscle and rope.
This body, my body that beneath
You is no one. No, no tendon. No ligament,
But piedra, perhaps, adobe baked
Centuries, mouthful of el Rio Bravo, maybe;
Malleable, I’m certain. Beneath you,
An armadillo as lithe as the little flower
of the moon; You on my back,
and here, I am marvelous as
Mud. In this heat, I unfurl.
Monday, April 02, 2007
for a Painter in Missouri
to offer you the Oaxacan songbird of my heart,
for it croons, guey, and soon, I, too, will procure that tune,
splice open this cage of avid ribs and swoon,
while love looms monstrously, like an odd red star—
so lustrous, guey, so lustrous.
And for us, that magnificent bird will ascend, then, this
bony ladder, perched atop
my pecho, he will soothe you, babe—Verás. Verás.
Your hands, mi cielo!
That marvelous jaguar of your eye! Malleability!
What tributaries and tribulations, guey!
The Gulf of mis ojitos, the bravest rio de los tuyos—
They’ve enjoined, so I’ve crafted this tribute of maize
and maldiciones; I bludgeon aloneness for you,
Hunt butterflies, gather bullets;
Cushion of my panza and my penance—
Will you allow me? I could cradle you, cariño.
Could cradle you, serio.
Monday, March 12, 2007
d3dicat3d 2 all th3 tamal3 slang3rz of th3 world, from granny's hot tamal3z vans posting up on 40 str33t corn3rz in corpitos 2 th3 youngst3rz across all of aztlan, coll3cting th3ir barrio cr3dz, bundl3s of st3aming ojas tuck3d in folds of shiny aluminum und3r th3ir soon-to-b3 v3t3rana/o arms; i salut3 you. n3ta.
Susto: out of the flat, flat plains, a trickle of it:
A burst. Belligerence, boasts. A voz.
Blusters, bombards. Voz.
Electronic, prickly voz. Primordial voz.
Lofty as the tallest bellies of table-clouds
and spring bulls,
that buoyancy, which brings me to this:
Mogul of mud and mestizos,
Plateaus and pilgrimages,
Putos and piety: a jaino in January, a jaino
En Marzo. Traiciones, monarcas;
Relampagos y cabarones—
This susto is what a vato like me is all about.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Lavish a throat. Leer. Punctuate each breath.
A bead. A bed. Twitters, twilight—
On good days, watch me
Bombard wishes with wily babas—
See, I inflict said incandescent cut atop the lip;
Split at the vortex of knuckle;
That all things pop apart, all things
Splintery bone; carcass of a telephone
I, like blackberry paste and birdish haste,
can hear a veterano’s soul crack
Beneath the fluorescence, jangle, jangle
of a thousand shanks:
oh, Mysteries, oh, Faith—and Years of keys
And keys and keys
and keys that don’t wield but the bonds of
Involuntarily quoting arthropods and guerreros—
Ey, you ever watch 2 vatos hold it down?
Naw. Not in years, he said.
Weight of carne, weight of flanks.
You remind me of this one vato I used to know.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Dominoes and rose petals galore!
The persistence of a blade.
A table astray, dishes mesmerize
A mechanical spirit, audible, audible,
Reminiscing peppermint saliva;
Astute, and all these capsules,
All these culprits;
Oh, Ms. Tilman,
Oh, static and sanctum!
All these yelps.
The Clout of gauze and mazes,
Hardly, hardly what I’m accustomed to:
A monster, a virtue, a smoking mirror.
I’ve blessed the Dead amid this fuselage.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Smirk, Sly Arroyo (And Eels, Too, Kneel)
I carry the village in tattoos across my arms.
--Luis J. Rodriguez
On this sleeve,
On this, the eve of 11—
On the battalion of scalps and scapegoats, I
Devour a namesake, hoard scraps, these
Chucks, estirantes, mi tapa that once
A whisper zigzagged the moon, disguises the skies,
And I’m marooned, doomed, I
Loom, a cirrus pantheon,
Smirk, sly arroyo, so coarse so coaxed:
That Tuesday Circus
Encircles my girth, all my worth
Propounds what one envelope divulges that day
Si fue tu, guey. All of it there—
Jetsam, scrape, los payasitos
lithe as eels.