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

BIOTECH

The harvest
Of the comatose
You don’t let them die
Because there’s a profit
To be made
Greedy wizards
Cloning and
Manipulating the DNA
Please don’t take me
To a hospital

THE WORKING POOR

Everything is a part
Of something small
The housewife has
A lost glance
In the marketplace
The most dangerous
Places in town
Because the work ethic
Is an invention
Of the generators of wealth
The employees
Lay their lives on
The stores of menace
For low wages

LUNCH ROOM

The workers
Eat together
Gathered like
Canned sardines

BINATIONAL DAYS

The jornadas became a journey
And the bus was better than a Boeing 747
Because I met a hoodlum
In search of peace
With his shaved head
And his LA baseball hat
Going back to the desert
To that familiar place of motherhood
He said Los Angeles
Is a Motherless place
He asked for my profession
And I said I was
A broker of simplicity
And I gave him my red lighter
He got back on the bus
And it disappeared
With the elements of distance
I stayed at the San Luis Station
Watching the serene
People around me
I was smoking
I begun walking
And asked a taco vendor
For the Frontera Motel
And he said the whole
World is a motel
And all of the universe a Frontier
I kept walking and
I saw a taxi driver
Talking to other Taxi people
And I asked him to take me
To the Motel Frontera
And he said to
Put out my cigarette so I did
I got in the car so old
So practical and beautiful
And we drove in the midst
Of the night and I was cautious of him
And he was cautious of me
And I wished the LA gang member
Was in the car watching my back
And the tension melted
With his out of tune AM radio
Whispering trivia questions
About presidents’ war and history
And we both gave our best answers
Our best shots to the questions
And not to each other
And he got them right
I got them wrong
And there was a feeling of friendship
When he dropped me off
At the motel’s driveway
The clerk asked for my name
And the city I came from
But her voluptuous lips
Added softness to her questions
And I answered her
She handed me a TV remote control
And a key with the number “12” on it
I got in the room and I lit a smoke on the balcony
I turned the TV on and watched
Some music videos and most of them
Were bad videos with pitiful soulless songs
I got out of the room and introduced
Myself to some women that looked like
Some sort of writers because of their
I want to get the hell out of here demeanor
They were in the courtyard
And one of them said I looked
Like a critic that has written more
Than 100 books and I did not know
How to respond to that
“I’ll take it as a compliment” I said
Then I went to the bar next door
And sat on a stool and ordered a beer
When I paid the barkeep said
Thank you “mijo”
I had a couple of beers and tried
To write a poem but I couldn’t
So I went to sleep
The next day a timid girl
Brought breakfast to my doorstep
And it was good
I walked down to the courtyard
And saw a guy who looked
Like a student and I asked him
If he was part of Jornadas
He said yes and I asked him
For a ride and he said to
Get in the VW bug
With Mexico City License plates
And then more people came
And got inside the tiny bug
And I remembered some of their faces
They were performance poets
The ones that are happy when people get upset
And we drove to some university
In the desert and the parking lot
Was like many sand dunes

AWAKEN

Morning breaks
The night visions
The sun irradiates
My eyes

GRUNIONS

The night fells
On its face
And the sand
Is full of fish

BROKEN

You don’t know it
But the storm is
Fast approaching
A tsunami of love
Kills the lovers
Send out an S.O.S
And make sure
Your heart
Has a liferaft

TIME PASSES BY LIKE A BROKEN LOCOMOTIVE

Eternity has been forgotten
In a dental office
There’s nothing sublime about this
Treatment for barter
I give them my time & money
And they mess with my open mouth
Using spooky instruments
Against my gums
I have an epiphany about
Whether or not I should be a poet
I am suspicious of the chemicals
They are injecting in me
My heart tells me
It’s too late to stop poesy
Because I have already
Fallen in love
With such difficulties
And dread sets in
It sits on the stool next to me
And it smiles
All I can see is a row
Of bleached teeth.

BORDER INSPECTOR

Some agents never learn
This one got away
Before I could
See his
Government Issue nametag
He was relieved by
A minority official
Someday I’ll see him again
Doing what he likes to do best
Harassing foreigners
And asking women to get out
Of their cars
So he can yearn
After their bodies
Slowing the lane on purpose
And making people
Late on the appointments
Of their lives
Next time I’ll write
Something nice about him
So he can google his name
And read about himself
On a border patrol poem

NATURE

Waiting for my wife
To call
I feel she might
Do just that
Because the clouds
Are not pleasant today
Their color of gray
Nurtures the heartache
Of the world
And the temperature
Is more than enough
To make the planet
A boiled egg

POETRY IN THE WORKPLACE

He handed me
A piece of paper
And promptly
Went back to work
It read:
“Woman after woman
It’s never the same
Chasing a ghost
That seems like a dream
You try to disregard
There’s only regret”
His second poem
He’s making progress

DOG

A little dog
Lost his sun
He wagged his tale
And turned
The switch on
In his room

LUKAS & DIEGO’S VISION

A little caterpillar
Lost his computer
He walked backwards
Then he stopped
For a minute
And he found it
On top of his hat

INVISIBLE

A soft wind
Opens the door
God enters
We eat
Bread together

Good news are not
An everyday occurrence
But when they come
They are like
A cold beer
In the heat of summer
Like a hearty breakfast
After a fast
Like making babies
After an extensive separation
The effect of such wonders
Are ongoing

SHAKING BRIDGE

The bridge moves under
I am in my truck
And around
Are hundreds of
Other cars
Above the canal
Scarce & contaminated waters
Flowing beneath us
Sewage of our days
Flow of guilt
Emanation of illness
Like the city
The ground moves under
Like a symptom

I agree

IT WAS A 4TH OF JULY


And we had a gig
In a house overlooking
The Willamette River
And we sounded okay
But the drinking audience
Thought otherwise
We were told we rocked
And we watched
The fireworks
As we played
And those were

Great visions because
Of the booze factor

The hostess asked me
Into her bedroom
She was a nice girl
But she was drunk
And when she was not looking
I grabbed my guitar and amp
And quickly walked away.

THE DENTIST

She said
My mouth is a mess
I think she
Was referring
To my molars
I can still say
I love you
In more than
On language
And it was
With this mouth
My distressed mouth
That we had the most
Charming conversation
And it felt as if
We had found
A friendship
That had been buried
In the sand
Of an island

Yes, abolish the debt in Africa
But also in Latin America
And the Middle East
And all over the world
Where Visa & MasterCard
Have polluted the hopes
Of humanity
Make the bankers
The servants of the poor
Make charity
The world’s currency

LITTLE KITTEN

One little kitten
He was homeless
With no food to eat
And no water to drink
And he found his house
Went inside
But his parents
Were hiding
And he said
Ah ha!
And looked for them
And he thought
They were
Under the bed
So he said
1, 2, 3
And then he looked
Under the bed
And he found them

THE LITTLE MOUSE

Sitting with
My two boys
And one said
I love you
And both
Of them smiled
And they
Told me a story
About a little mouse
Who lost
Its dresser
And found it on
His parents
Coffee filter

LA

Con sus horizontes
De humo
Sus carreteras
Infectadas de accidentes
Galería de murales despreciables
Laberinto de calles adornadas
Con basura
Sus túneles de graffiti
Catacumbas actuales
De los perseguidos
Debajo de los
Múltiples y decrépitos
Letreros de Hollywood
Ciudad enemiga
De las infancias
Aquí las estrellas
Necesitan los trucos
De la cinematografía
Para poder brillar

BORDER PURSUIT

The CHP was on to him
But he kept
The accelerator pressed
Zigzagging in traffic
The black & white dichotomy
With flashing lights
And ungodly sounds
Right behind him
The congested freeway lanes
Brought the chase to a stop
The gunman got out
Of his police cruiser
Grabbed my friend
By his throat
And begun choking him
As he dragged him
Back to California
Back to the future
Back to Disneyland
Back to the wasteland
Back to the land
Of the chock—hold
His pride
Blinded him
With rage
The last milligrams
Of prudence
Disappeared
From his badge
He was asphyxiating him
In Mexico
And then there were shouts
Dark, fat & short customs
Were screaming in Spanish
Holding their pistols
And then all made sense
He took his hands off him
And raised them up
To the heavens
As if he was praying for his life
And began to walk backwards
Back to the way of the cowboy

BORDER SMOKE

The car was on fire
The elderly motorist
Put his oxygen mask on
And continued
Behind the wheel
Behind those ugly cars
Behind those abhorrent dreams
Behind in that
Wait of frustration
Behind happiness
Steadfast to his
Burning chariot
His life on the Line
As the firemen
Tried to rescue him
From crossing the border.

THE REAL HOMELAND SECURITY

INTERPRETER


I left the world
Of professional translation
Because I got weary of interpreting
The riddles of my patrons
Their problems
Became my problems
Their quest for greed
Was too much to bear
I found out that instead
Of being a helper
I was being an obstacle
To those most in need
Because of this
—and by default—
I had to also leave
The 1st world lifestyle
The house, the cars, the vacations,
The white collar salary
And all that comes
With such commodities
Now I can interpret
My own enigmas
My own dilemmas
The mysteries that I discover
Day by day
In a not so trendy life
I can read into my children’s eyes
More than ever
I can feel the presence
Of my wife
I am not numb anymore
I got reacquainted
With that heavenly princess
Named poetry

OVER THE COUNTER

I sell seafood
For a living
I hand people
Salmon and red snapper
Swordfish and halibut
Cod and catfish
Shrimp and crab
Tilapia and shark
Lobster & scallops
And my customers
Ask if they should pay me
I tell them to do so
At the cash registers
Up front
And that‘s fine with me
Because I don’t like
The smell of money
And the clients comeback
And they bring me gifts
Sometimes liquor
Other times precious stones
Or coupons for free pizza
Or their phone numbers
Or they invite me
To their houses
So I can have dinner
With them
Most of them are lonely
They eat alone
They live alone
And that’s the
Trademark of
The mightiest
Empire in the world
Its wealthy citizens
Live in alienation
Lonesome kind souls
Embraced in opulence

AGAIN

I see you coming
Out of the bathtub
More beautiful than ever
It was
12 years ago
When I found you
In my studio
Your gorgeous body
Glowing in splendor
In the water

INNOCENCE RELINQUISHED

Suffering
The corridor
Of deliverance
Daily aches are
Nothing untrue
It’s just the
Weight of time
Gravitational reflections
Of eternity
You heart is beating
Just an omen
Of your days

THE SUN ENTERS
THE WATER
IT MAKES IT WARM

A big sun
Larger than usual
Brighter than any color
I’ve ever seen
A living sun
Beating like
The heart of the sky
Sun of alliance
Touch of brilliance
A blinding
Gentle face
Fire is love

PORTLAND & POPOTLA

For Penjamo’s son.

I hear the cars racing
Engines purring
Like cats on steroids
In Portland
I could hear
All the way to
The international speedway
From my front porch
As I drank beer
Or played guitar
Or just sat there
Doing nothing at all
Here I listen to them racing
On Popotla boulevard
From my desk
As I tried to write
And then the cops come
And chase the racers
And cars crash
People die
Then I am told
Of funeral services
For my friend’s son
And I sit here
Looking at the keyboard
Drinking & smoking
Listening to the engines
Vibrating through
The darkness
Of the ocean

REST

Vacation is staying
At home
All day long
Reading and resting
In bed
Eating and drinking
And sleeping
Waking up and
Falling a sleep again
And playing with children
Because play is medicine
And knowledge
And the best education
In the global village
Those who exploit
Destroy and ravage
The earth
Should ensure this reality
For all the poor people
Who built them
Freeways to affluence
These exclusive paths for
The very few
With plastic surgery
Because they could not stand
To look themselves
In the mirror
And think their ugliness
Is on their faces
When it is in their souls
And they can’t sleep at night
So they ask their wizards
To create powerful drugs
That knock them out
And make them forget
The pain they legislated
To the human race
And then they try
To push this same venom
To all the healthy children
In the playgrounds
Of the dying cities
In their empires of radiation
The heavens and the earth
Where created into paradise
And they are working hard
In killing that oasis
And their own offspring
And the gracious
And wild creatures
In the oceans and
The rivers
And the jungles
The icebergs
And the deserts
The mountains
And the valleys
And all those other
Places we can’t see
But we know they are there
But their not able
To kill it all
Because goodness
Is stronger than wickedness
And the vast majority
Of people are good
And only the very few
Are evil
So every time
We kiss someone
With all the strength
In our hearts
We are winning the battle
Against those very few
Who try to intimidate
With their wars
And their loans
And their universities
And their Satellites
And their V12 engines
And their special effects movies
And their stars
That need spotlights to shine
And their newscasters
And their manipulation
Of weather patterns
And their taxes
And their phony scribes
And all the other ambushes
That we can’t see
But we know they are there
Peace is better than war
And because of this
I tell you to stop
Your addiction to death
And come to us
And we will embrace you
As a long lost brother
Who has found his way back home
And I will never stop
Praying for you
So come to us
You are loosing anyway
Come to the winning side
Of affection
And get some rest

NEW FRIENDS

How powerful
Are the severed
Handcuffs of greed
In the lives
Of small
Moneyless angels
Who invite
People like me
Into their households
And share
Food & drink

EARTHQUAKE

When I feel
The ground move
I know you
Still exist

BONFIRE

If it makes you ponder
Then think of this
Goodness is not a product
It’s the cry of a baby
Saluting pharmaceutical pushers
Space infected
With the most
Complicated minds
Of the world
Our tears
Are like acid rain
Floating around earth
No sinking emotions
Because kindness
Is better than
A profitable sale
And it knows
How to fly
When darkness becomes
A family gathering
With warm winds
And the laughter of children
Reflected in the moonlight
Then I will believe
In this rage of yours
For the time being
We’ll wait for
Happy moments
Owed to the planet
By angry people.

TOLL ROAD

In the
Toll houses
You need to pay
To go on through
On the road
You need
The money
From banks
In the houses
You need
The affection
From all
The people
You helped
While you were
Down there
Living foolishly
But with a lot
Of heart

SAND

Fishing in Mexico
Is frugal
I am talking about
The locals
Who stand on
The beach
Not with expensive
Fishing poles
But with beer cans
For reels
Sparkplugs
For weights
And smiles
For bait

WIRELESS

Sadness is
The symptom
Of a
Sophisticated world
Usury of the heart
Winter of emotion
Kidnapping of meaning
At the expense
Of the
Vast Oceans
Of dignity
Fear is
An erratic kiss
And you
Are the answer
To loneliness

I AM IN LOVE

My lovely wife
Brings me drinks
As I write
And she kisses me
And tells me
To write more.

CIRCA DIVORCE

Inside that
Smoky bar
With all
Those friends
The table
Tolerated our
Future insecurities
Inside empty
Bottles of liquor
And the affluent
Blue—eye girl
Was rubbing
My leg
Under that
Same table
And I smiled at everyone
And everyone
Smiled back
Because there was
Nothing better to do

ARRIVAL


I arrived in the city
Penniless and with
No place to stay
So I called Walter
His mother
Told me he was working
On a movie set downtown
I got there
And saw him on a corner
Sitting in the sidewalk
With his model girlfriend
Being cool
Looking hip
Eating & drinking
And he got up
And gave me a hug
She did the same
Don’t worry Juan
We’ll help you out
And they gave me cash
And something to drink
And we talked about
The poetry workshops
That seemed so long ago
He told me about the
Time he went
Motorcycle riding
With Mickey Rourke
And his long walks
In the desert
Chewing peyote
He was happy
She was happy
I was happy
And everything
Felt alright

HIGH VOLTAGE

This morning
I woke up
With an earthquake
Without electricity
A glimpse of paradise
And the end
Of radiation
The fire department
Had to bring down
The corpses
Of the thieves
That tried to steal
The power lines.

THE SPIDER

Sorry
Better you
Than me
I caught her
And her
Venom smelled
Like cinnamon

THE INTERNATIONAL BORDER

As he was
Cleaning cars
He saw a guy
In a wheelchair
Struggling with one
Of the border patrol guards
His chariot was not
Fast enough to
Flee to Mexico
It was human powered
No gasoline needed
His crime was
Selling bubble gum
On the wrong side
Of the border
They lift him up
Wheels and all
And took him away
To the concentration camps
Were the poor & disenfranchised
The crippled
Those brown
Short people
Are called
Potential terrorists

4&5

I was awaken
By the aroma
Of beacon and eggs
After a long night
Of trying real hard
To be a writer
My two boys
Were putting
Their breakfast
In my mouth
I smiled
They just stared
At me

THE RED CROSS

Urgent care
Was not awful
This was
My favorite one
The healers
Clothed in white
Were happy
They stitched
Through his tissue
Nice people
My baby
Didn’t cry

3 ELDERS

Look he said
His 90 year old hand
Pointing at two
Old women
Looking at a tree
They’re afraid
Of the mulberry

GARRULITY


She talked
And talked
When on
And on
About how good
Fruits and vegetables
Are for one’s health
Asking me if
I knew that
And she told me
About the time
She met Elvis
And that now
She’s a vegetarian
And only takes
Designer vitamins
And all she said
Seemed somewhat right
But her garrulous ways
Invalidated her energy
So I lit a cigarette
And she promptly
Left me alone

THE SHARPNESS OF LIGHT

Life is ignition
Days of dynamite
The energies of love
Pierce throughout
The wonders of summer
Your smile is
Like an explosion

HELPLESS

I wanted to help
To say something
To write something
But I was
So debilitated
A sun made of moments
Was sinking in the ocean
And my bed
That comfortable coffin

GUITAR

To Driana.

The guitar was
The only instrument
The devil
Could not mastered
He conquered

All of them
The piano
The accordion
The horn
And all the others
With the guitar
He could never
Reach the end
He discovered
It is infinite

FONDNESS

Freedom of emotion
In every kiss
A pathway
Around the universe
Wine of compassion
This morning
I was a resurrection

VOLUME ON HIGH

Éktor clutched
The mike
Like a front man
The speakers
Cried out
With poetry

DISCULPA

Los accidentes
Son doncellas hermosas
Que adornan mi cuerpo
Frente a las puertas del hotel
Tropecé con
Acentos golpeados
Mi pluma también
Tiene cicatrices
Adornos de mis días
Soledad con vestido tradicional
Sobre mis piernas
Misterios divididos
Como fotografías
Adioses en blanco y negro
Canciones aéreas
Y carcajadas fuera de tiempo
Espasmos proféticos
Burlas desinfectadas
Con lágrimas secas
Los rescates se ocultan
En habitaciones sin número

A POEM FOR ATHEISTS

God
Sometimes people
Get mad at you
But I love you anyway

You are Percy Bysshe Shelley! Famous for your
dreamy abstraction and your quirky verse,
you're the model "sensitive poet." A
vegetarian socialist with great personal charm
and a definite way with the love poem, you
remain an idol for female readers. There are
dozens of cute anecdotes about you, and I love
you.


Which Major Romantic Poet Would You Be (if You Were a Major Romantic Poet)?
brought to you by Quizilla

OFF

Turn off
The bombastic music
And listen to
The birds sing
Turn off
The electric grid
So they can continue
Chanting
On the high voltage wires

THE TOLL ROAD

I contemplated
Dead people
On the highway
The rays of
The sun set illuminated
The car wreck
And the blue ocean
Is majestically solemn

Art too is just a way of living, and however one lives, one can, without knowing, prepare for it; in everything real one is closer to it, more its neighbor, than in the unreal half-artistic professions, which, while they pretend to be close to art, in practice deny and attack the existence of all art - as, for example, all of journalism does and almost all criticism and three quarters of what is called (and wants to be called) literature. I am glad, in a word, that you have overcome the danger of landing in one of those professions, and are solitary and courageous, somewhere in a rugged reality. May the coming year support and strengthen you in that.

Always
Yours,
R. M. Rilke

BOOK SIGNING

My brother met
Norman Mailer
He was overwhelmed
By the living legend
As he signed his book
All that my sibling
Could utter was
Norman Fucking Mailer!
The writer grinned.

SUBMISSION

Once I got published
On a zine called
Letras Libres
I submitted a poem
And it got accepted
All I can remember about it
Is that it made reference
To life being a smile
With rotten teeth
I wrote it
On rainy night
Looking outside the window
Of a brewery
I wish I could have a copy
So I can begin to decipher
The reason they liked it

THE AUDITION

As we walked the streets of Portland
The night coated with rain
To the meeting place
That hang out where underage punk rockers
Would congregate and do the mosh pit
Supervised by a attractive guitar player
She was looking for a singer
And my friend was up to the task
So I went along for moral support
I knew the city and my mate
Was from out of town
I’ll show him the ropes
I thought to myself
We got there and she was waiting for us
The most beautiful punk woman
I have ever seen
We introduced ourselves
And she liked us both
We talked with her on the wet sidewalk
Once in a while she would
Look inside to make sure
The kids were not breaking any bones
As they danced in a most peculiar way
I went home to my wife
Ritchie stayed and sang with her

INTERPRETER

My days as a court interpreter
Were brittle
I saw many lives broken
Like shattered glass
Their freedom was hijacked
Because they were poor
And the rich walk away
Into the arms of
A sympathetic planet
Society applauds their
Daring escapes
Their lawyers attack
Like expensive pedigrees
Death as punishment
Awaits the underprivileged
Those who were born
Under the wrong ancestry
It made me nauseous
To interpret the
Fate of these miserable
Human beings
To tell them they were
Going to live
In a house made of shadows
With a language that should
Be use for love
And the restoration of smiles

TOP SECRET

Agent Guzman
Asked for my citizenship
He’s a big man
With a small heart
My passport
Was in his hands
I think he was not
Reading the document
Just pretending to look at it
I decided to answer
His question
US citizen
I said to him
In the midst of smog
And hundreds of cars
Waiting in line
Behind us
What are those machines for?
I asked pointing to
The x—ray devices
I had just driven through
It’s top secret
If I told you
It would not be
A secret anymore
He said
Do they cause cancer?
I asked him
I don’t know but
That’s why I don’t
Cross to Mexico
Because you might get cancer
On your way back?
I asked again
It’s top secret
He said.

AIR

Dance beautiful nostril
I’ll be happy in you
With the games
Of blameless children

BORDER FIELD STATE PARK

As I drove
With my friend
We entered the
Border community
Of Playas
We saw
Through the dividing
Metal fence
Landscaping workers
Restoring the park
Next to the beach
It had been abandoned
Left to die
With the ugly
Game of politics
Amigo Crosthwaite’s column
In a San Diego newspaper
Touched some sensitive nerves
Some place far away
In a government office
A decision was made
And change was
Taking place
The power of the media
Crosthwaite said
His hands on the steering wheel
On the windshield
The majestic Coronado Islands
We were driving into the sunset
Better than a Hollywood flick
Far greater than any piece
Of kitsch merchandise
The power of the press he said
I saw this
Battle won with
The power
Of the word

SMALL GAME

I went out
To hunt rabbits
In the moonlight
I got bitten
By mosquitoes

I SAW CLEAN TODAY

The kid that cleans my car
As I wait to get
My daily X-ray fix
My radiation passport
So I can cross
The international border
Clean is one of my
Favorite friends
And he’s got
A big heart
And it is spotless
Like the car’s are
When he’s done
Working on them
He told me
About one of
His fellow auto cleaners
How he got beaten
With a telescopic baton
By a US border agent
For cleaning automobiles
On the American
Side of traffic
He took the
Punishment in submission
When the border guard finished
And placed his attention elsewhere
As they often do
The Mexican worker
Playfully pushed him
Like a clown in a circus
The guard fell
On the pavement
Among the motor oil stains
His colleagues tried
To arrest the comedian
But it was 3 meters to late
He sprinted to
Mexican soil
And it seemed that
The whole world laughed.

THE READING TABLE

I sat at the table
Waiting for my turn to read
And this short story writer
Was reading some
Of his work

He was next to me
And he had a mike
Close to his mouth
And a captive audience
As collateral

The guy was good
He knew his short stories
Very well
And I was concerned
Because he would be
A tough act to follow
I really enjoyed
His work
And the audience did too
All that immaculate Spanish
And I only had
Bilingual poems

But his left hand
The one closest to me
Was shaking uncontrollably
As if he was a soldier
On his first battle field

I felt bad for the guy
So I took a drink
From my paper cup
It had beer in it
The other writers
At the table had booze
In theirs
To the media and
The folks sitting in the theater
It looked like coffee

And I thought to myself
Grab you hand
So it shakes no more
And you will shoot strait

And he did just that
He finished his reading
In one piece
Then came
The roar of applause.

RAINBOW

Sometimes is always
Habituated rituals
Of hypnosis
The Matrix
Is a fairy tale
Flies are more pertinent
To your common sense
Don’t forget
How the policeman
Ran away from us
With his flashlight
Beaming on the
Sandy beach
In all directions

BY THE BORDER

The border
Such a disgusting place
But the wait
Is like
Bitter medicine
Kind of
Like waiting
In purgatory
And commuters
Ordinarily upset
Daily despise
The flavor
Of patience

A POEM FOR LAWYERS

American pit bulls
A necessary evil
Protectors of the rights
Of the underclass
Rescuers of minorities
Of the abused
And exploited
You make your fortunes
With the sufferings
Of others
But without you
There would be
No compensations
Only bona fide slavery
And all that injustice
The poor swallow
So I drink to
Your health
May you keep winning
All the battles for
The underdogs
So the rich can
Pay the poor
At least a portion
Of what they are owed

REMEMBER IRAQ

San Diego California
Marine Core land
I see
All these kids
Walking on
Prosthetic limbs
And the
Paralyzed Veterans
Of America
I wonder
If the desert
Is on their minds

IGNICIÓN

La llama
Acaricia
El principio
Del cigarro

ARIGTATO

She told me
That I have
A very good
Pronunciation
I said thanks
And then
She asked
If I study
Japanese in college
And I said no
But I added
That I am
Fond of Basho
And his haikus
Her face glowed
And she said
That’s beautiful

ENCOUNTERS

When death
Fails me
It touches

Those near me

I WAS ALMOST THERE

As I drove
She came
Into my mind
And I knew
I had to
Write it down
But I was
Almost there
And I didn’t
Want to make
A note while
Behind the wheel
In a matter of minutes
I said to myself
I will embrace her
With pen & paper
She was fresh
And pretty
Waiting for me
To make of her
Lines of reality
And when I
Parked the car
And sat at
My desk
I could only see
Bourgeoisie strangers
Hypnotized by
Video games
She was gone
Forever.