USTEDES QUE CASI NO ESTÁN MUERTOS

Todos ustedes
Angelitos hermosos
Inocentemente indóciles
Beban el valor que añejaron
En sus corazones
En las barricas de sus recuerdos
Reminiscencias de ternura
En gravitaciones fetales

Porque es la única medicina
La única recuperación
De nuestros días
Disfrazados en noches
De las flechas de esquizofrenia
Que están clavadas
En los anhelos del éxito
Y en los sinsabores de un engaño
A control remoto
A todo color

Ustedes que aún no están
Entumecidos con espejismos farmacéuticos
Y las presencias de hombres tenebrosos
Que se esconden en rascacielos

Porque la doctrina del miedo
Es nuestro pan diario
Y la demencia es el fruto
De la cobardía
Más allá de la serenidad
Está la paz
Y un silencio estremecedor
Que sacude las lesiones de la mente
Y recoge los pedazos regados
De sentimientos destruidos

Ustedes que casi no están muertos
Que casi están vivos
Ustedes que están aquí
Conmigo.

FOLLOW UP

The doctor looks
Like a supermodel
One of the thinnest
Persons I have
Ever seen
Blond hair
And blue eyes
With a degree
To heal people
She told me
About the time
She had a MRI
And how it was
Not too bad
Nothing to be
Claustrophobic about
I asked her
If she felt like
She was inside
A casket
She said no
And asked me
To lay down
And examined
My knees
Then she wrote
Another RX
For pain medicine
And handed me
The piece of paper
Nice to meet you
She said
Likewise
I replied
Then I left.

PSALM 23

The Lord is my protection
I should not want money
He makes me to lie down
In green & pesticide—free pastures
He leads me beside
Still & unpolluted waters
He heals my soul
From the defamation of
My greedy adversaries
He walks with me in the paths
Of freedom & love
For His name sake

When I walk through the valley
Of the shadow of death
Under the snares of rich merchants
And the crosshairs of
Their hired guns
I should fear no evil
For You are greater
Than their evil motions
And You are with me
Your fairness and your friendship
Comfort me

You prepare a table of victory
Before me
In the presence of my enemies
You anoint my head with poetry
My cup runs over with feeling
Surely goodness and mercy
Shall follow me
All the days of my life
And I will dwell
In the house
Of the Lord forever.

LIKE HER

Sometimes when
I make love
I think about
A baby
Coming out of
My wife
And I wonder if
This time
She will be
A daughter
Will she look
Like me
Or will she have
Blond hair
Like her

MACADAMIAS

Those trendy particles
Look like
Dog food
Inside the
Plastic containers
The people from
The academia
Eat macadamias

DECADENCE

Steady pain
Modern daily bread
Distraction of kindness
Merchandized beauty
A synthetic honesty
Invitation for
The cataclysms
Of the
Rich & poor
A paradox at
The cash registers
Invisible blows of silence
And victory becomes
A trademark

INJURED

I can see the best
Encounters of
Our time
Injured by
The madness
Of marketing
A disaster for
The human soul
The levy of sanity
Has broken
And reason has
Been flooded
Impure waters
Of greed

HENRY’S MARKETPLACE
CHULA VISTA
CALIFORNIA
&
EATING
POPPY SEED
BREAD

The store owner
Hands me
A fair portion
With his right hand
He cut it himself
With an awkward knife
From the bakery department
And called me by name
“Juan” —he said—
“Do you want some good bread?”
Thank you Ron
—I said—
I touched his hand
As I grabbed the morsel
And ate it
I looked at him
In the eye
As he said
“It’s kind of chewy”
I wondered if
He feeds
Bread covered with “poppy seeds”
To all his injured workers
Just before their drug test
Hoping for a positive result
I remembered when I worked
As a translator
At times I translated
Medical material
It was then I learned about
People flunking
Their drug screening
Because of
Baked goods
With poppy seeds
Today I learned
These are ingredients
I can use for poetry

CHINA

Writing a poem
While waiting
In line
In a bank
Musak coming out
From the walls
And the roof
My pain dances
On paper stain
With blue lines
Made in China
Human tenderness
Struggle of survival
I write these words
For those dear
Children of God.

ICON

Warmth of
Apocalyptic winters
And cool wind
To the urban
Lakes of fire
When I see you
My heart heals
When I kiss you
I get medicine
That is better than
The pharmaceutical witchcraft
That poisons

The global village
When I taste you
I find immortality
Is childlike.

GOOD

My friend
Is a hero
I can see the reflection
Of his pain
In his eyes
Those sad
And friendly
Blue eyes
That have seen
The end of foes
And of a part
Of himself
He never speaks
About war
But I can read the story
In his
300 meter glance
Melancholic measurement
Of death
And of life
His life
And I think
How he survived
The existential shrapnel
And now he invites me
To his house
And offers me
Food and drink
He has the greatest
Of wounded hearts
He never speaks
Of the battle field
And the ocean
Is a mirror

EARLY HOUR

Employment is like
An uncharted map
Or like
The common cold
So ordinary
A misfortune
Far too regular
When I entered the cooler
I saw meat & fish
All around me
Waiting there
Ready to make
People sick
I walked and slipped
There was blood on the floor
I looked up to
The surveillance cameras
I thought that if I died
They would sell my flesh
To affluent retirees
Who spent their
Summer of love
In Woodstock

IMAGINATION

My children play
One says
I’m a soldier
The other says
I’m the man
That can’t walk good
They pretend to
Be jellyfish
And they playfully
Try to sting me
As I read something
I can’t understand
The ocean & the beach
Looked better
When we were
About to leave.

INSPECTOR BOUTWELL

A happy looking man
Securing the borders of
United States of America
He likes scrutiny
His bald head
Makes him look like
Robert Duvall
The only difference is
The inspector carries a pistol
A badge
And the dull blue uniform
He asked me if I have
Any weapons
Of Mass Destruction
To declare
As he opened
The back door of my truck
Then he smiles
I just looked at him
And then looked at my watch.

WIFE & MOTHER

As I ate the hot soup
My wife cooked for me
With all those
Perfectly blended ingredients
She mentioned she talked
To my mother about
My writings
As they drove
To the airport
She confessed
She actually enjoys
Reading them
They traveled
Northbound on
Interstate 5
My mother said
She used to look
Under my mattress
For poetry I would
Hide there and
Then forget about
When I was in
Elementary school
I wonder if she kept
Those poems
I might get the nerve
To ask her next time
I see her.

WARMTH

Letters of fire
So meaningful
Transmission of energy
At the speed of light
Into walls
Of apathy
The house burns
Illuminating the spirits
I am not cold anymore

RESTLESSNESS

They wander around
Without peace
Even in outer space
Exporting turmoil
From planet earth
It’s heartbreaking
They need
Machines to fly

THE KISS

A beautiful blond girl without legs
Had a crush on me
But I had been busy
Nursing Bob Dylan back to health
He suffered from an upset stomach
So I bought him some Alka-Seltzer’s
Since he let me crash
In his apartment while I was in town
I avoided the legless blond girl
As much as I could
Till I was confronted by
Her friends and relatives
And I could not find a way out
I looked to my left and I saw Hank
Better known as Bukowski
Last I heard he was dead
But he looked very much alive
I asked him if I should kiss her
He said to me:
There’s nothing better for the
Predicaments of the world
Than a kiss

KI6ADIO

Kilo of tortillas on the table an
Igloo of emotions
6 empty cans of tecate beer bring
Altitude to the heart
Deltas run trough my arteries
Oasis of love in the sunset

ILLNESS

Healing is out
The door
Away from the
Surveillance cameras
And the negligent attitude
Of gathering revenue
Hindering of medical treatment
Infection vs employer
A fight for the life
Of the worker
Life drips away
While on a time clock