WHAT’S A POET TO DO?

The ocean was enough
To start her up
Her engine vibrating

Her face
Was a mix
A reflection
Of sun
And water

I was a witness
To such miracle

Her machine
Was purring

She was
On the shore
Her car was
On the sand
2 ships underground

RED FACE


Fright & drunkenness
Give red faces

A red face also
Shows up
When having
A good time

A burst of laughter
Has the same effect

Contrition may give
A red face

Exertion and exercise
Give red faces

Walking does not
Provoke a red face

Running
Yes….
Definitely running

CLARIFICATION

This is the 50th time
You been here

What can I say to
Something like that

The case looks good
And it gets heavy
When the sun
Is out

The truth
Sometimes rides
In the trunk
Of a car

With a 50 cent
+ tax
Final
For cover charge

A CRANE IN SAN YSIDRO


Migra Raya
Sent me in

He was not playing
Percussions anymore

He confessed
He’s sax player

Inside
A crane works
With a blue house
Like the one
That collapsed
In New York

MIGRA WATSON


Okay….
So Migra Watson
Gave a long dissertation
On the SYSTEM
Used by the
FBI
INTERPOL
DEA
ATF
IRS
FAA
SECRET SERVICE

May God bless
Their respective mothers

They seem so far off
Like something you see
On the TV
Or the movies
But now

Doubleday…
There’s a
Shinny classy lady
Diamond lady
Fashion lady
Designer lady
A gem to puzzle
The son of watt
Said to bypass
W. Ralph Basham
Because he doesn’t
Like to give answers
Most secretive folks
Are that way

Answers for what?
Answers are boring
Answers are wasteful
Answers are sinful

To write to Washington
The guy with long hair
That appears on the dollar bill
His stoic glance
Gives a comforting feeling
I bet he achieved a state
Of illumination
Perhaps it was
Just sadness

MIGRA ATIENZA


“Why do you keep looking at me for?”
“At you?”
“At my name”
“Your name?”
“Yes, you see… right here”
-he pointed at his US flag pin on his shirt-
“I am a US citizen”
“Good for you… I guess”
“Do you have a problem?”
“Why are you mad?”
“I am not mad”
“Angry then?”
“What?”
“Nothing”
“Have you ever had issues with us?”
“Issues?”
“Yes”
“No”

Atienza
Migra Watson told me yesterday
That your job is like customer service
I don’t what he was talking about but
It somehow sounds about right
So Atienza
Please Atienda
The Citizens of the World

Atienza
As you were yelling at me
I saw Migra Black
The one obsessed with the
State Department
Grinning at you
From his booth
The irony is that he
Has a cool name
But he’s white & looks like
A Ku Klux Clan

Atienza
Don’t threaten me with
The CHP
Those black & white saints
They no compare to you
If they see an alien
On the freeway
They’ll give him a hand
I you were to see
A flying saucer
You probably would
Want to shoot it down

Atienza
What I am going to do with you
A middle age migra
That gets uptight and nervous
While on the line

¿MIGRA?


Dark eye rings
Decorate his face
An overcast spring day

Salmo

Los leones rugen por la presa
Y reclaman a Dios su comida
Sale el sol
Se recogen y se echan
Sale el hombre a su labor
Y a su labranza
Hasta el anochecer



ARIES


Just grey magic
The kind that makes
You walk on
Oily pavement
It makes me walk
On contaminated beaches

You said computers
Rule the world
Such an illusion
Made of sand

Electronic tricks
That give you
Raccoon eyes

But that is normal
Because eyes change
With the different stages
Of illumination

And since
You have
A good heart
And are a citizen
Of the city
You can pour
Into a glass

I want to
Welcome you
Little brother

They’ll give you
A free lojack
And the other type
Of jobs too!
But don’t be afraid

They all be coming
After you
You’ll become
A fishing hook
A lure of
The wealthy

They’ll try
To make you
Into steer
While you are
Working against
A contingent
Of tuna fish

At first is bothersome
But then
When you
Get acclimatized
You’ll give thanks
To the Almighty
Because you will
Be able to hunt & fish
Wherever you live

MIGRA RIVERA MAKES AN OFFER

He said:
You are here everyday
You should come
Work for us

How can I tell him that
This is just a line on the sand
And it is disappearing
As the water
Runs over it

And that
When there are
No more lines
He can come work
For me

WINTER DREAM


Heart to heart resuscitation
More than beautiful
For survival
Immortality defines your lips
Your presence
Radiates music
I can hear you
I can listen to
Your pulse
Reading the most wonderful secrets
Treasure of the skies
Princess of the wind
My northern star
Divine apparition
Angelic mystery
Creator of 1000 memories

THE WORLD

I can
See tuning
Inside your blue eyes
I am sorry
For the earthquakes
For record temperatures
For the paws of panic
For the birds
That prey
Sometimes it
Is needful
To be
Rattled a bit
To control the pressure

BEARING GIFTS

2 Angels
vs
2 nervous migras

Worried because of
Flat screen televisions
Cinema codes
Hollywood diners
And pizza home deliveries
FBI monitors
And porno channels

Concerned because
Of those eating
With their vision
Pushing tortillas
Inside their
Eye sockets

Bureaucratic smirks
Decorate the audience
Laced drinks
On the hands
Of warlocks

Myriad of
Thought-activated
Mines

I like
To carry
Your cerebellum
In the trunk
Of my
Old car

Everybody
Is afraid
of the
Glance of God

Hyena laughter
With brain mods
That speak Russian

Here it is
Just for you
A revolver
Inside A
Shoebox

CBP POBRE


Pobre
They make you
Work on Sundays

Pobre
You will be okay

Pobre
Like the
Famous singer
Who rode on convertibles
And made music
With no car payments

Pobre
De ti
Sang Julieta

Pobre
According to Jesus Christ
You should be counted
Amongst the blessed

Pobre
We are the silent majority

Pobre
We have that in common

Pobre
The love
Of the poor
Creates global warming

Pobre
Global warming
Melts the icebergs

Pobre
Poor people
Make rich love

Pobre
Fuck the rich because
Because they placed you
On the front lines
With a pistol in your hand
And told you to stop
The movement of the world

CBP RIVERA



“Ha ha ha ha ha ha….”
“You should be a stand up comedian Rivera”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, David Letterman”
“Oh… come on man!”
“Hey! wait a minute Rivera is a good guy”
Said an unknown Migra in his defense
“Yes indeed, a very funny guy, with that laughter and unforgettable smile
He be better working Las Vegas
Or the House of the Rising Sun”
“Go stand behind the table”
“Okay Paulo”
But Paulo face looked longer than usual and his voice had a slight tone of sadness.
The metal table makes for a good bench
And just thinking about all the goods that
Are placed on that surface I can’t help and wonder how
It would make a great Mexican banco
Or a school bench… nahhh
A work desk
And when I tried to write something
“Are you writing your thoughts?”
“It just homework Navarro”
“Oh”
“Navarro?”
“What?”
“Do you like working here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you like it here?”
“It’s okay…. I guess…”
“Juan Martínez!….”
A voice yelled from the Migra offices.
I looked towards my car and I saw Rivera
He had my passport on 1 hand and the
Infamous orange slip in his other hand
“You can go Sir”
“Thank you”
“You are welcome Sir”

IT’S JUST A PASS


I don’t know how that pass
Ended up inside my passport
It wasn’t suppose to be there
It wasn’t for you to see

But since you didn’t make
Any comments or asked
Any questions about it
It probably means that
You did see it

I am not an
Ill-mannered person
I will give you the courtesy
To partake

This means
I would like to
Invite you
To the show

This is nothing to be afraid of
I have taken my love-ones
Something I would not do
If I thought they were subject
To any harm

I have to admit
I kind of like the way
You call me “Sir”
It tickles my fancy

I think you will
Make for good company
Then you
The children
And I
Can laugh
In unison
As we watch
The screen

CALL


The telephone rings
I pick up the receiver
There’s silence
And I think of you

Wrapped in silence
Involved in silence

I hang up
As gently
As I can
As if I was
Caressing your
Lovely face

WINE & SEA
IN HER NAME



Seafood on a romantic line
A line that ties 2 hearts

Nourishment for the spirit
Medicine of passion
Nutrition from the sea
For our bed of fire

You are the wine
That my soul craves
You are
My agent of beauty

Worker of splendor
I have never seen
Such intense grace

We were so close
And you were
Wonderfully calm

I like you
I like the way you walk
I like the way you work

I like you
I like the way you look
I like how you focus
I like how you talk

I like
To think of us
Chatting nonchalantly
Eating chocolate ice-cream

I like
How you gravitate
I like how
You pretended not care

THE MIGRA & THE POLICEMAN


Velocity towards you
I can still touch
Those who wish you harm

“Have you been in trouble before?”
“No”
“Have you been sent to the motel before?”
“Yes”

The policeman
Was almost dead
Some believe
Dead policemen
(Or policewomen)
Are beneficial
For traffic

“I don’t care if you doubt my identity”
“I am just doing my job”
“Everybody is doing a job, you get paid to ask questions, and my job is to get to know you, like a Father knows his little children”

Altitude is hazardous
Because it is
The dwelling place of
Angels & devils
And they are always fighting

I have been
Quasi dead
Many times

The most important
Thing to remember
Is not say anything
To the horsemen
Don’t answer their questions
Not even if they are
Next to an ambulance
Or a beautiful nurse
Or paramedic

You don’t have
To open your eyes
If you listen
If you know how to listen
It will sound just like it does
When the horses walk on pavement

I see more horses
On city streets than
Out on the country

The horsemen
Are not like migras
Migras actually enjoy
Asking questions
It brings them pleasure
If you answer their questions
They might even like you

The horsemen on the other hand
Don’t suppose to ask questions
That’s not their job
I know this because
They don’t say much
(Sometimes they don’t say anything)
When they work

They only show up
When somebody fucks up
And there’s nobody else
To ask questions

So if you don’t say anything
They’ll get glad because
They can leave and do
What they really like doing
Like watering their horses but
If you become a blabbering fool
They’re not going to care for you

The policeman
Is almost dead
And the migra
Doesn’t even know it

AFTERNOON

From the sky
You will see
The water
You will see me
Walking on the sand
Thinking of you

CBP AGENT GARCIA
ENCOUNTER OF
THE 2ND KIND


“You are here again”
“Yes, again agent Garcia”
“You know the rules right?”
“What rules agent Garcia?”
“You are here all the time
You probably know them better
Than I”

Garcia
I know the rules
Of love

Garcia
If you want
I can teach you

Garcia
Everything with you
Is a mystery

Garcia
I was flattered
Because this time
You approach me
And spoke to me

Garcia
You are
A good-looking
Woman

Garcia
I can read
Your facial codes

Garcia
You have
Sex appeal

Garcia
I think we are
Making progress

CBP WANTS MY PICTURE

“If you can’t give information
So I can clear you
Maybe you should change
Your name”
“Change my name?”
“Aha”
“I like my name”
“It’s a popular name that’s why
You should change it”
“I like being popular”

But the agent with
The Cuban accent
Wanted to finger print me

“What happens If I refuse?”
I asked
“If you refuse fingerprinting?”
“Yes”
“Then you will be place into
Custody and we will use
Forced fingerprinting”

I didn’t feel like
Being shot
So early in the morning
So I walked with him

“We are also going
To take your picture”
“Do you also want my autograph?”
He did not reply
“Take off your glasses”
I took off my glasses
“Did you use to have a beard?”
“Yes”
“How long?”
“Not as long a Fidel Castro”
“But it was this long”
I made gesture with my hands
To show them how long
My beard used to be
Then he took the picture

CBP ALVAREZ

Alvarez
I can tell you
She has the voice
Of an angel

Alvarez
Even though she’s new
She might conquer the world

Alvarez
I am impress
You know your
Drivers license
By heart

Alvarez
If I was you
I wouldn’t flaunt
That fact

Alvarez
I like your
Sense of humor

Alvarez
I wanted Balestreri
To look me up
She’s pretty
You are not

NEXT TO THE OCEAN


Arbor is
My favorite level

Arbor is my friend
It purifies the skies

White arbor
Made of icicles

Beautiful arbor
Of the northern heavens

Sun & arbor
Tireless comrades
In good & evil

I saw him riding
In the back of
A police truck
And I wanted to help

Set him free?
Free from what?

It made sense
When he said
Arabs are millionaires
With beards

Stop by the house
He uttered
The metal on his wrist
Was not silver
And it looked like
An uncomfortable bracelet

2 autochthonous humans
Kept him good company
They were silent & watchful
With a peaceful presence

They also had
Metal on theirs wrists

He was in good hands….

For a moment
I thought about trading places
With one of them

For a moment
I thought about nothing

Then I look towards the skies
And thought about you

BORDER CROSS


The cross
Is all over the world
It was distributed
Amongst those who believe

The fragments of the cross
Are on the American Continent
On American Soil

The cross was broken
And given to many
For the explosion
Of the faith

The cross
With God’s DNA

The cross crosses
The border everyday
Those who find it
Must have it
Grab it
Hold it
Press it
Seize it

And keep it in a secret place
Free from harm so
Hide it

Because there’s no time to:
Show it
Display it
Photograph it
Bluff it
Clone it
Love it
UFO it
Market it
Sell it
Lease it
Finance it

It is a relic
An example
Of what happens
In the deadly game
Of politics

The cross
Is a reminder
Of Death
And of a new
And very
Otherworldly life

To those who believe
In a planet
Without borders

I will
HOLD on
To the cross
When I suffer

I will
Hold on
To the cross
When I become mad

I will
Hold on
To the cross
On the battlefield

I will
Hold on
To the cross
When all the fighting
Looks like the sweetest fantasy

Before those I love
Start dying
I will shield everybody
With the Cross

BORDER TOLLGATES


Young & beautiful
2 in a row
Girls with pistols
What’s next?
Bikini girls & machine guns?

How things can change
So fast like
The blinking
Of a dying fish eye

Migra Airey appeared next to me
At the infamous Migra Motel
Uttering like a broken record

“You went to far”
“What?”
“You went to far”
“I don’t think so, this is only San Ysidro”
“You went to far”
“What do you mean?”
“You went to far”
“Can’t you say something else?”
“What’s your problem?”
“My problem?”
“Yes, what’s your problem?”
“I have a problem?”
“You don’t remember?”
“Remember?”
“You don’t remember”
“Remember what?”
“You can go now”
“See you soon”

Agent Airey walked away
And he looked like a butterfly
And I drove towards their back-gate
Feeling like a backdoor man
And I did not see the guy
With the reloading supplies
And someone else took my
Hunter-orange slip
Somebody else wished me a farewell

CROSSING THE HUMAN RIVER


How nice to see you
The morning after San Valentines
At the San Ysidro Motel
Or is it a rest stop
A Motor Inn
A Secondary Inspection

You looked as beautiful
As the last time
A little tense
Holding steadfastly
To your pen
Prettier than any
Of the princesses
In the millions
Of fairytales

The morning after
We tried to workout
The meaning of love
Does love=work?
Energy is love always
Love is the reason
The planet moves
Erratically but valiantly

Love must be friendship
Another one said:
You should have brought us
Coffee & donuts

Is he in the
Not so
Secret Police?

Friendship & rivalry
Like the Anglo-Saxon metaphor
Of tough love

Forget about sugar!
But I give him credit
For the coffee request

If I take him along
There’s always the risk
Of addiction
To spicy food
Spicy women

Then he would be asking
For cold beer
Not necessarily better
Just different
Different enough to survive

I find military prophets
Enjoy fine liquor
I like tequila but
The risk never disappears

A tough lover knows how to hit
The inner most sensitive parts
Of the heart
The cerebrum is okay
The heart is always
The best

CBP AGENT GARCIA


Garcia
You are a feisty girl
I wanted to invite you
To sit next to me

I am nice
I am gentle
I don’t get mad easily
And I won’t pull your hair

Garcia
Would you like
To switch your
Blue shirt
For a green one?

You told me
Not to use cell-phones
And I told you
I don’t have one

I don’t want to talk to you!
Was you reply

Look north!
You said
But you stayed
South of me

Garcia
You look so sexy
When you are angry

Garcia
Are you the evil
Hologram of
My dear friend?

Garcia
A genetic copy
Of privilege?

Garcia
Thank you
For the cloning
Of remembrance

Garcia
You are a
Fountain of memories

I like the way
You were looking
As you searched my
Old car

I glanced at you
And for a moment
You smiled & blushed
I also had
Pleasant thoughts

THE THINGS I HAVE
TO DO FOR YOU



“Do you know what happens
If you don’t stop at Secondary Inspection?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you keep going north”
“You get shot?”
“It’s not a good idea”
“I figured that much”

The man by the window
Was wearing a white shirt
A badge hanged from his neck
And he held white binoculars
Next to his face

It be better for him if he was
Holding a crucifix on his hand

This is where the world
Becomes a giant drum
And the helicopters
Make it vibrate
The purring in the sky
Makes a good drummer

This is when you listen
To the radio
And realize you can
Write better songs
The musical of the
Hunter-orange slip
With nobody at the gate
The heavens gate
Your exit gate

The jar lady
Now walks
A black lab
But I don’t see
The pretty blond
Beauty on a daily basis
Is to good to be true

All I have to say is:
Arigato

MIGRA 101


The new Roswell
Is in San Ysidro

It is also the
New Stock Market
The genuine Wall Street
Everything here is on the line

Trading of souls
Implants of the mind
Sun tanning of the brain

How apocalyptic!

Government backed mysticism
For the highest bidder
Manufacture of success
Modified subjects

Miraculous combinations
Proudly made in America

I have to admit
It was thrilling
To see her again
Walking her dog
K9 looked happier
And she looked as beautiful
As the last time

But a middle age woman
Paraded with a crystal jar
On her hand
Inside there was
Brown paper
Folded paper
Recycled paper

She looked happy
With her acquisition

And all those
Blue uniformed assets
Nervous & tense
With the approaching of
The verdant light

It is normal to be afraid
When seeing green
But is better to be
Friends with God

BORDER TABLE


I am believer
I believe in everything

What a beautiful miracle
Inside a government uniform
What a beautiful wonder
Such a tender face
Blue stars in her eyes

I think she would look
Her best
Next to a statesman
A president
A poet?

“What are you waiting for?”
“I‘m a...”
“You can go now”
“Okay”

That was Martin
Tall and skinny girl
Looks ready for the Olympiads
Lots of energy…
Very good

“You’re the one that keeps track of time?”
“Aha”
“You have to do what you have to do”
I had no idea of what she was talking about
I just nodded

INSPECTIONS

The old migra said:
“We’re going start charging you rent”
But that’s okay because
Sometimes tenants say crazy things.

Some of them are quite nice
Like the lady this morning
She was polite, wholesome, friendly.
I bet she likes to laugh.

She said:
“I don’t understand, the other day your name
Didn’t come up in the computer,
And today it does”

Life is better if we
Leave the mysteries alone
And I like treacherous hotels
Because they’re intriguing

“Do you have money?”
“Why, do you need a loan?”
“Do you have money to declare?”
“No”
“Do you get sent here everyday?”
“Does it bother you?”

He kept his silence and I felt bad
Because there was a Tigres del Norte
Song on the radio that I wanted to listen to
But I don’t think la migra likes them
So I turned off the radio
And I let him do his work

Making love has always been a metaphor
When writing poems
1 often uses metaphors
I wonder is she was upset
I really wanted to get closer to her
There’s something attractive about her
Perhaps I like the way she does
The lotus position

I kiss her once
And she kissed me back
It was a formal kiss
My heart jolted
Her pupils radiated

The pretty american poet
Gave me a poem
About her pubic hair
And then she gave me kiss
I looked towards my left
And her girlfriend looked
Extremely jealous

When el migra
Was finishing
His revision
A janitor walked by
And she looked
Like my first
Mother-in-law

FORWARD


Love can be induced
Love can move
The ionosphere

Love is
A burning blue flame
Love is you

Radiated smile

Sometimes
Love can be produced

Love and sentimentalism
Are difficult to differentiate
Clichés and love
Camouflage heavily
With each other

Love can be a conspiracy
The forgetfulness of love
Is the deadliest weapon

Love undercover(s)
Can be sinister

I think love
Can be known
Love can be understood
I believe you can taste love
But only for brief ethereal moments
It takes a lot of effort
To get there
Because love is energy

Love is the power
Of persuasion
Missile of goodness

Love is treacherous
Like a French school of thought

Love & disease
Like war & peace
What a combination!

MY MUSE

Is it cold
In the sky

I love you
Because I
Can see
The sky
In your eyes

You are
More beautiful
Without makeup

You remain
In control
Of my heart

Your beauty will stay
With my soul perpetually

I am in love
With your existence

At first I thought
My feelings for you
Were a estrange whim

I remember your voice
I remember your smile
I remember you
The most beautiful
Woman on earth

Your image
Is tattooed
In the eye
Of my soul

I don’t know why
This is happening
I don’t mind
I confess
I like it
I like you being
My muse

1+3=4


The hispanic migra
With white hair
Liked my antenna
He grabbed it and stroked it
Banged it a little bit
A couple of times
What a sick fuck

I wish Huaman had
Stick around a little bit longer
She seemed like
A nice lady
She volunteered to walk with me
And we had a nice chat
About ethnicity and family
I guess she’s not married

An alien with grey hair
Also stopped by
He looked at the antenna
Then he looked at me
And I looked at him
Marciano vs. Marciano
Then he continued on his way

He was wearing a blue coat
And a swarm of
Migra agents were
Escorting him
His escorts looked at me
With stupefied faces

He must be from
A faraway planet
But nonetheless
An alien
Like me

SPY

I see someone
Glancing at me
From inside
A white truck
As I carefully approach
The Chevrolet
I find a
Golden retriever

LA TAZA DE DE CAFÉ


Una taza de café
es como un amplificador
para el alma

Amplitud
De mañana

Una taza de café
por la noche
es amplificación
de deseos

Potencia sin filtros
ritmos explosivos
en la cama

En el amor
no existe
la frecuencia modulada

Pero sí
la amplitud de tus piernas
las frecuencias de tus senos

¡Oh anima de ADN!
Programación de
Adán y Eva

Siempre regresamos
a los códigos
que Dios grabó
en nuestros órganos

Miembros tatuados
por tradiciones
de ángeles

Lo que el diablo
se robó
se recupera

Misterios
que se esconden
en el aroma

YO TAMBIÉN TENGO UN SUEÑO


“Did you do something before?”
“Hugh?”
“Did you do something before?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you get got?”
“Get got?”
“Yes, get got before you were a citizen?”
“Before I was a citizen?”
“Did you get got doing something wrong?”
“No”

I haven’t done anything wrong
But I have thought beautiful thoughts
I had beautiful dreams
I have created sweet thoughts

¡Yo también tengo un sueño!

A dream of a borderless crossing
A dream without metal fences
Without ridiculous walls

A dream similar to our German friends
They took down their wall
Berlin became one

The Palestinians
And the Egyptians
Also took care
Of their border
And they went shopping

AFRAID TO PET MY TIGER


Tijuana police think people are afraid of them
Because of their reputation for kidnapping

Tijuana police are afraid
Like everybody else

Afraid like the homeland security

Agents at the border
Afraid like the soldiers on the front lines
Afraid like the housewife with a Beat husband
Afraid like the patient

Who has been given a positive aids test
Afraid like the locking jaws of a pit-bull
Afraid like the keepers of the bomb
Afraid like the senator who boards the airplane
Afraid like folks walking on the beach
Afraid like Wall Street stockbrokers
Afraid like a jet pilot

Who knows he’s on his last flight
Afraid like the senator who is on that flight
Afraid like me just before kissing you
Afraid like the family of the senator
Afraid like me when I am kissing you
Afraid like me when I ejaculate inside of you

Afraid even though we sang ‘no fear’
Clenching our instruments
As the innocent moved on the dance floor
Oblivious to our reality

Afraid like the installer
Afraid to go to Mexico
To eat carne asada

Afraid of the Cross
Afraid to have the Cross as
Your surname because you are protestant

Afraid to speak Spanish
Afraid to speak English
Afraid to speak
Afraid to hold your peace

Always afraid to love
Afraid to hold
Afraid to embrace
Afraid to hit
Afraid to take you down
Afraid to lift you up
Afraid to cry
Afraid to laugh

Afraid to carry
My 45
Afraid not
To carry it
Afraid not be afraid
Afraid to be afraid
Afraid of those who are afraid
Afraid if those who are not afraid
Afraid of ricochet
As I shoot
My cuerno de chivo

I am afraid
She said to me
On the telephone
I am afraid too
I replied
I am afraid
She wrote
On the computer screen
I am afraid too
I wrote back

Afraid…
Afraid…
Afraid…

CBP RODRIGUEZ


“Have you done something bad?”
“What do you mean something bad?”
“Have you been in trouble with our agency before?”
“Trouble?”
“Never mind I walk with you, but just go slow”
“Okay…”

She moves fine
There is something alluring
About her
Perhaps it is the memory
That she triggers
About when her clone
Asked me to dance one night
“Nobody will know”
She said
I cordially declined her invitation
I was married anyways
And besides
She was already sleeping
With one of us
It wouldn’t be ethical
Or healthy

CBP AGENT FRILLES


Today Agent Saenz
Walked with me
Like the writer
That I met
In the Mexican desert

He suffered from a cold
I think he’ll recover
If he drinks
Lots of water

FRILLES

They say it’s better
“To forgive & forget”
But since you place
So much importance
On memory
I think you need
To know this

Intelligence
Is better
Then memory

I will tell you
What I do know

My name
Is Juan José Martínez
And I like to write
(Some say it is poetry)
As an exercise
Of remembrance

Don’t ask me questions
About the State Department
(I think Condi is very good looking)
But I can’t help you with that

Is not my fault
They have you
Working blindfolded

Agent Airey
Walked by
I saw
Butterflies in his eyes
This got me off guard
I knew that guy was weird
I think that’s a good excuse
For not remembering

FIX

South African client
Had a problem
With the product

Reputation is vital
&
The company always takes
Care of customers

I was given the okay
So I opened a case
And detached
A head

I gave it to the man
With the funny accent
He was happy

Saw him smile
For the 1st time
He smiles like
Bugs bunny

And all of the sudden
He was not just business like
Impersonal and indifferent

It seemed to me
He wanted to become
My friend

BORDER
K9 GIRL


You look so sexy
When you play
With your
Stainless steel knife

The way you softly
Hit your right thigh
With your
Water bottle

You look like
Popeye’s girlfriend
But you have
Blond hair like
A Hollywood
Movie star

Your nervous demeanour
Makes you look
Even more beautiful

How I would like
To take you
For a walk
On the beach

Life at the line
Would be a fantasy
If everybody
Looked like you do

I thought about
Writing your name but
It would be most poetical
To watch your lips
To read your lips
Pronouncing the enchantment
Of an introduction
Perhaps you can
Interrogate me next time

The beauty in a poem
Can change
Without losing merit
Drastic transformation
Of images

When I can not
See you anymore
I am instructed
To get out
Of my car
And stand
Looking towards
The North

Agent Shuler
Has vodka eyes
His instructions
Have a voice
Of melancholy

Vodka is good
But tequila is better

Sadness is okay too
It is as powerful
As love
And death
And happiness

Not everything
That is ugly
Is bad

Not everything
That is beautiful
Is good

NEW YEAR
CBP VERSION


First workday of the year
Sent me right to secondary inspection
How flattering
My home away from home

Something strange
I feel
There’s pleasure
In el trabajo

How much is too good?
Is something ultra-good bad?
Is it sinful to have fun?

Diversion was
Always discouraged
By the desert teachers

But now it’s
So difficult to differentiate
Reality from supra-reality

Joyfulness a symptom
Something is wrong
Employment gets me
High on artificial happiness

I thought poetry
Was the door
Of sadness

Ohhhhhh
Mandatory breakfast stop
Images of frighten cattle
And nonchalant K9’s

I thought I saw
Agent Eirey walking
Looking for his soul
On the pavement

You can’t help but
Sympathize with some
Of these fellows
Like Agent Dominguez
Who gave me a heartfelt apology
As he walked next to me car
Towards the Garage

But I looked for Agent Airey again
To see if he is still
Feeling butterflies
In his gut

You can tell this
Is happening when their
Eyes dance vertically
And horizontally
Usually a
Reliable prediction
For tears

No-more Airey
Last time he was walking
Towards those concrete boxes
That look like kilns
Where they sell
Tickets (permits)
To amused tourists
The type that
Get off
When spooked

This is better than Disneyland
When you give
The orange paper
To the gatekeeper
He opens the door
And there’s
A free-way
In front of you
Then the next level
The better ride begins

BORDERLINE OBSESSION


“I’ll make sure
You are sent to
Secondary inspection
Every time you
Cross the border”

Agent Airey
You stupid Ox

How clumsy art thou?

When you walked to the rear of
My car and bend down
To write something on
A piece of paper
I saw you in my
Rearview mirror
And you appeared as
An international retard

Airey
Go a head threaten me
I am sorry to tell you
You are not the first one
Who wants to see me everyday
Just the latest clown
With a gun and badge

Are you also a hardcore believer on
The don’t ask don’t tell policy?

Airey
Are you
The face of America?
The face of protection?
The face of confidence?

The face of the war
Against uselessness

Airey
Why don’t you
STOP
Harassing Mexicans
And go
And catch a terrorist
Or an international
Drug trafficker
Or a white collar crook?

Or just go and catch
Some common sense

When I saw Agent Segovia
I knew the music was about to begin
He made sure I make it to
Secondary inspection
Where a jovial CBP rookie asked him

“What do you have”

I tried to see his surname but he was
Wearing a jacket and it
Was covering his nametag

Segovia whispered something like

“INS not Customs”

And the routine questioning began
I don’t mind answering questions but
That day the novice did not like my answers
And all of the sudden he was
Less jovial and more condescending
He finally introduce himself at the end
Of our awkward encounter

“You can go now”
He said
“Thank you Mr ????”
“De la Cruz”
He said

De la Cruz
What a popular name
He might had been lying
Perhaps he gave
A cool sounding name
Like they do at the movies
Either way it’s good enough
For easy an poem
‘So here it goes

De la Cruz
You are a nice kid
With a lot of potential
You might make “captain”
Just toss out
The condescending tone
Is not you
It doesn’t fit you
If it was you
I would kindly tell you
To go onward
And I might even
Give you a few pointers
On the art
Of being supercilious

JUXTAPOSITION

The lady on the red truck
Is an ultraist
She stopped on the freeway
To save a lost dog
A pretty dog
A black Labrador

I never seen nothing like this
Such animalistic affection

And I am close to tears
I am touched and
I kiss her
(Mentally)
On her forehead

Because here in America
If such an action
Provokes an accident
It is just all right
You have
Mandatory insurance
With fabulous marketing
And magical deductibles

Such a heartfelt moment
Coming towards me
Through my
Broken windshield

But I keep thinking
About the other side
And the times
I could not stop my car
It was either
Save an unknown dog
Lost & lonely
In the middle
Of a toll road
Or save myself from
The ambushes of velocity
The ensnarement of sentimentalism
Or the surprise attacks
Of idolatry

Sometimes hitting
The brake pedal
Can have deadly results
So I hold fast
To the steering wheel
And hope for the best
And contact is made
At 100 miles per hour
I lose 1 fog light
1 parking light
My front bumper bends

But otherwise
The car continues
On a straight path

The ghosts behind me
Disappear since they
Are terrified
Of dogs that eat dogs

The canine glides
On the pavement
His legs point towards
The Pacific Ocean
It looks as if
It has fallen
While ice skating
At Olympic speeds
In my rearview mirror
It looks profoundly asleep

ESCAPE

My bright star
Princess of galaxies

Beauty in the sky
Miracle of my heart

My killing tigress
Come let us
Devour each other
With the fires
Of love

FREQUENCY

Poetry comes
Like a
Megawatt woman

Without a
RF choke

When God created
The heavens
And the earth
He was thinking
In Spanish

In the beginning
His Spirit
Moved in
The waters

And He

Still does
To this day

PASSTIME


I love taking
Poppy seeds
Off my bagels

A habit
A picked up
From a cleaning job

Even if
I am not hungry

It is entertainment
Of the healthiest kind

Manual work
It keeps
The devil away

Cleaning bread….

Sometimes those seeds
Stick like crazy glue

A fork
Is not enough
Only the tip
Of a sharp knife
Can pop off
Those tiny dots

Motherboard
Of wheat

Modification
Of flavor

IMAGE


7 seas are not
Only good for
For excessive drink

It is also
Good medicine
For the common cold

500 feet
Of dragon rope
Shipped to
Devils Lake

But I know
Your lips
Are an elixir
Waiting for
The next
Border warming

Waiting for the
Next dimension

How I wish
To love you
Until the
The morning sun
Becomes a blue moon

To kiss you
Until we can’t
Distinguish stars
Form planets

Satellites
From UFO´s

Yes
I am thinking of you
Princess of
The southern portals
Gatekeeper of passion
Keeper of
My soul

YOU FACINATE ME MORE
IN YOUR HUMAN NATURE


Many times
I have thought
Going after you

After all
You are beautiful

But love is something
You can’t force

Love has energy
Of its own

And if it is your turn
For the
Emotional summer
You can’t help but
Let the season
Run through your veins

Let it
Jolt your spirit

No need
For narco-aid

God has
His own way
Of shaking your
Materialistic reality

So it is best to let
The stars
The moon
And the satellites

(Natural or
Created by
Human beings)

Do their work
With their influence
In the game
Of existence

Because the heart
Is also an antenna

A receptor
Of fire

Sometimes freak-hopping
Is unavoidable
Collateral damage
Of the mind
A security effect
Meant to protect children

A firewall
Like the one
Placed in the
Garden of Eden

TRAFFIC


I saw you today
You looked beautiful
As always

How time disappears
Like capricious moments

I never thought
I would see you again
What a pleasant surprise

I also thought
I saw you
On my computer monitor
Yes
She looked exactly
Like you

Or you
Looked exactly
Like her

I would have
Never thought that
You would end up
Making commercials
For American Express

But then again
I always liked
Your style

I have to admit
That once
You made me blush
When the tall
Cute blond girl
Gave me a too
Close for comfort demo

You spoke
Into the mike
Of your cell phone
Commenting the
Live development

You looked
So corporate
Back then

Of the many
Pretty girls
You are the
Only one
That remains

There’s so many
Attractive girls
But most
Come & go

Only you
Have endured
Through the years
I am impressed

I have to admit
That more than once
I almost
Didn’t make it

I like the way
You smile
When you drive
It makes
For good traffic

SPECIAL YOU


A CBP agent
Walked my car towards
Secondary inspection

God bless his heart
He’s was just doing
His job

How I wished
It was you
Taking me
Prisoner

Our hands
Handcuffed
To each other

I would toss
The key
To the ocean blue
Blue like your eyes

Blue like you
The most beautiful
Of the
Winged agents

There are non
Like you

You
Woman—goddess

You are
What makes
An international border
Lovely & aesthetic

CBP AGENT MATKIN


I know
I am just
A Mexican

But it doesn’t
Look good
When a
United States Agent
Spits at
A third world
Traveler

There’s no need
To threaten me

Detaining
My car
In your
Government lot
Is not the best thing
To do

The last government
That confiscated my car
Was overthrown

So please
Relax

I want to think
That it was
A mistake
From you part

Saliva is good
For healing
Your own wounds

WITHOUT JET FUEL


I wanted
To be with you
But the gatekeepers
Of the south portal
Would not let me go

I don’t understand them
Now they are much nicer
But they seemed spooked

Even though they
Have pistols and
I only have a pen

Back when they
Liked to act daring
It would seemed
They wore
Government—issued
Insolence
While under stress
It’s good to think
Good thoughts

So I thought
Of you
Levitating above
The clouds

Magnificent wonder
Of the sky

Celestial symbol
Of beauty

The agents
Inspected my
Beat up car

They double checked
My identity

I don’t know
Why they don’t
Believe me

I love you
Because you
Can fly
Without jet fuel

I thought of you
On the other side
Of the clouds
Closer to
The sun

PICTURE


My princess
It flatters me
To know
You have
My photograph

If you wish
In the very
Near future

You may have
My face
My lips
My heart

AFTER SUNSET


I could not
See you
But I knew
You were there

I could
Feel the warmth
Of your beauty

Flying with
The shadows
Of my day

RADIANCE
OVER THE COUNTER


Up close
And personal
You are more
Beautiful than ever

Oh clever
Snow White!

You incite
The ambers
Of splendor
When you smile

Your presence
Is a revolution
Of wonder

Brilliant
Apparition
Of the sky

Radius
Of
Love

As you
Walked away
Towards the door
I realized
That God
Doesn’t make mistakes

COMOUFLAGE WOMAN


Your shirt says
ICE
But you are
Hot woman

Your uniform
Was about
To ignite

Because it was
Touching your
Celestial body

I don’t think
You belong
Over there
With them

You turn me on
You make me

Feel good
You set me
On fire

Why don’t you
Come over here
To my side
It will be
Like home

A POEM FOR A HIPPOPOTAMUS


When such
A large animal
Goes mad in a circus

Threatening
Beautiful children
It’s time to
Take it out

Put it outside
The tent

A hippo runs
And trips
Breaks its neck
With its own weight

A hippo
Could feed
A large family

A hippo
Is a mass
Of red meat

Carne asada
Del Africa

Insane mammals
Are better

When they’re
Put away

A hippo
Sits down
When it’s taken

It stares
At the horizon

Before falling asleep

AGENT CARRERA


You look
Like my
Childhood friend

The one I met at
Sunday school

La Buena Carrera
Like the Saint
Used to call it

A reminder:

It was stolen
Not lost

Carrera
In case you
Find yourself
In the race
Of your life
Be strong

Because sometimes
A river of excrement
Can bring
New life

Aromatic
And beautiful
Things could appear

2 TJ PIGS
ON FIRE
07—075
07—068



Thank you
For showing me
Your motorcycles
They are pretty

I did noticed
When you mentioned
The model
07’s
Brand new
Good for you

But numbers are
Sometimes confusing

To help you
I need your
GOD
Given names

Removing
Your nametags
Is useless
HE
Can see
Everything

I
Am sorry
I couldn’t give you
Any money

I didn’t have
Any silver
I didn’t have
Any gold
But what I
Do have
That I
Will bestow

AGENT ABTS


That was
Not fast
People like you
Make me
Go fast

AGENT GRUDA


Gruda
You said
“Every day bro”

Very good
I’ll adopt you
As my kid brother

Gruda

You are beginning
To feel like home

Gruda
Tienes cara
De Cruda

Yesterday
I had menundo
For lunch

Today I had it
For breakfast

Gruda
The white
Plastic bag
Your were holding
The one
With containers inside
Has the perfect vessels
For lunch

MIGRA AGENTS ON
THE DANCE FLOOR



The beautiful semblance of Diaz
Disappeared when her computer
Began to beep
The sweet voice instructing
“You can sign it when you get home”
Was juxtaposed with a serious look
As she wrote in the hunter orange slip
She looked disappointed
This was a sentimental paradox

The dance floor
Looks like a
Drive in

Hearvey
He looks like
He has a great
Guitar player inside

Cinson
Sent me away
She didn’t want me
Near her

But Mendoza
Sent me back to her

Then she apologized
She said she was sorry

Guerrero feels like family
Even though he went for the shakedown
He only found pesos in my wallet
He said those were no good
He promptly gave my billfold back
Perhaps Euros
Will make a better impression

The couple with the ICE
On their shirts
Looked like PK’s
I wanted to talk to them
But Guerrero did not think
It was a good idea
Perhaps soon
We can have
A HOT cup of coffee together

When they opened
The trunk of the gray compact car
A lot people
Were pulled out

Sardines look
More comfortable
In their cans

The migras laughed
At them
But I don’t think
Near death experiences
Are something to laugh about

I wondered if this hit
Has anything to do with
The noisy
Mexican White Commandoes

CBP AGENTS
MAYO & GRUDA



Mayo
I contain
Sensitive electronics
For best performance
Don’t bend me
Perforate me or
Expose me to
Extreme temperatures

Gruda
Should I tell you
That I am not
A criminal?

I am sorry
I didn’t laughed
At your comments

I do like
Your sense of humor

After all
I did smile
For you

Sure I can take it
I hope
You can take
1 metaphor
1 rhyme and
1 poem

QUINTANA
ANOTHER TIJUANA COP


You are a real good
Policeman

Thank you
For being concerned
About my health

I will
Never forget you

I like the way
You ask questions
You have the approach
Of a medic

Quintana
We could use
Someone like you

Quintana
I like your determination

Quintana
I like your considerations

Quintana
I like your discretion

Quintana
I like your judgment
You are a wise cop

You followed
The California
Warning system

You will make
A good Poncherello

Quintana
People like you
Deserve to be
Put to work

Protecting the children
Of the growing Family

Quintana
Sometimes
I try not to see red
I will drive slowly
In the mornings
And look for you
I promise

A POEM FOR MEXICAN CUSTOMS


Don’t get excited
About the icons
In my trunk

The samsonite
Is not their permanent
Dwelling place

Yes
They are valuable

Yes
I know you wanted
To know
The dollar amount

Yes
They are truly
For protection

Yes
They help me
Fight off
The devil

Evil spirits
Make things cold

The spirits
Of God
Are like
Burning fire

Yes
I knew you were
A believer

As you touched
My icons
Perspiration drops
Appeared in
You forehead

JUDGE CHARLES ELLISON



Is it difficult
To decide
Who is right

And who is wrong?

Is it
Like trying
To decide
Where to cast
The hook & bait?

What if
You should
Eat the fish
That might
Make you sick?

Is it easier
To fish
Human beings?

Is carne asada
The way to go?


What is
Good judgment?

Is God
The ultimate
Judge?

Is it wise
To be friends
With God?

PARKING SPACE


I see the sunset
In my rearview mirror
And horses
Walking on
My front street
I see DNA
In my rearview mirror
Displaying monsters
On the catwalk

Because there’s nothing
Better than the ethereal
To trap the attention
Of dancing mermaids
Wearing the most
Elaborate outfits

Not all the drinking
Needs to be done by them
I enjoy placing spirits
Inside a cup
And holding them
Prisoners in
My stomach

But you need
To be careful
Because making love
Without feeling
Is like eating
Without being hungry
Both are
Unhealthy propositions

CBP AGENT AS A LOAF OF BREAD

The truck that dislocated my front left turn signal did not make it very far. Even though the cops let him go first, henceforth he got inline before I did; I somehow manage to see him on my rearview mirror. The truck was vomiting steam and water; the vehicle and the owner overheated. The driver looked at me, using my mirror as a medium, but his angry glance was interrupted by an approaching customs agent clad in blue. As the line advanced forward I saw the overheated truck, the government agent, and the truck driver, stayed behind. I stopped at the point of inspection; the employee stepped out of his computerized booth and looked at me. Now it was my turn to give answer.
—Citizenship?
—American.
—Where are you going?
—Chula Vista.
—What were you doing in Mexico?
—I live there.
—What do you do for a living?
—I sell organic products.
The customs agent reached for the infamous hunter—orange note block, and began to write on it. He was sending me to secondary inspection.
—You now where to go? He asked.
—Yeah.
—Then go.
I drove towards the garage—like structure; the place I have been many time before. I was directed through hand signals to the first parking space, the one next to the inspectors’ offices.
—Turn off the car and give me the keys. An unknown agent said.
I did as he told me, I knew the drill. These are the perfect times to take out a book from your backpack, briefcase, or coat pocket, get comfortable, and enjoy the magic of poetry or the thrill of narrative.
—Look guys, this is my car! Said another CBP agent as he erupted in laughter. His nametag spelled Roman
—Hello Roman. I said.
—Get out the car. Barked Roman.
—Yes…. Roman. I said.
—Put your hands on the roof of the car and spread your legs.
—Okay Roman.
—Why do you keep mentioning my name? Asked Roman.
—That’s not your name?
—Don’t mention my name again.
—Okay Roman.
—You know what?
—No, what?
—Come this way.
Roman took me about 50 meters away, and placed me in a line with other detainees.
—Look straight ahead and don’t turn around, don’t move. He said.
—Very good Mr. Roman. I answered.
I stood looking at the other guys looking straight ahead. They all had sad faces, I was the only one with a smile, and they all looked as if they were facing a firing squad. A couple of agents came and handcuffed the guy to my right. They grabbed him by his arms, manhandled him, and took him away to an unknown location. “Shit” I thought to myself, it didn’t seem like Roman was joking around. I looked back at my car and I saw a red—face guy with a dog, snooping around in my trunk. He looked either hangover or very upset; or both. He saw me looking at him and he said something to another inspector.
—Turned around! An inspector yelled at me.
By now, another pair of agents came and took the guy to my left, same protocol, handcuffs and all. I was beginning to worry. This was definitely the wrong line to be in. When I was thinking of being arrested and taken to an undisclosed location, without being charge indefinitely, when things were looking bleak —when I was no longer smiling— I saw a young looking agent, maybe in his mid 20’s, clean, very Anglo-Saxon, with a nice presence gravitating about him. I looked for a nametag in his uniform, but he was not wearing one.
—How are you? He asked
—Okay, I guess.
—Do you need some water?
—No, thank you,
—Do you need to use the bathroom?
—No, thanks.
—Are you sure you are okay?
—Yeah.
—Come this way.
I followed the nice kid towards my car. I looked towards my left as I was walking, and I saw Roman standing and chatting with other inspectors, I tried to walk in Roman’s direction, but my escort said:
—No, Mr. Martinez, come this way.
Since I could not walk Roman’s way and I wanted to say goodbye, I cleared my throat, and called his name.
—Goodbye Roman! I said waving at him.
Roman turned around, his face got red like a tomato, his eyes looked like little brown pees, his body got rigid, he looked like a statue; he was frozen in time. I thought to myself: great now he’s going to shoot me.
—Go away! Go away now! Yelled Roman
I looked at him, smiled, and waved goodbye.
—Asshole! He screamed.
I got into my blue car and drove away. I was late for work.

GOOD PIG/BAD PIG

I did not see the truck that hit me as I tried to go around traffic. The Mexican/USA border is notorious for tragic jams.
—You are at fault. Said the cop.
—That’s not the way I see things. I told pig.
—I saw how it happened. He refuted.
I decided to deal with the truck owner first. His fender had a minor scratch; my driver side turn signal was sent flying through traffic. We were both standing next to his truck.
—Do you want to press charges? Asked the cop.
The truck driver looked at me.
—I apologized, I didn’t see you coming. I said
—You should pay more attention next time.
—You are right.
—No, I don’t want to press charges. He told the policeman.
—Okay you can go.
The old man got in his vehicle and started the engine.
—Have a nice day, and once again, I am sorry. I said.
He didn’t say anything and drove away.
—Okay, now we can all go on with our day. Said the cop’s partner. He was the good pig.
—Absolutely not. Said the bad pig.
—Come on man, let’s get out here.
—No, I am going to give him an infraction.
The good pig looked nervous.
—What’s your name? I asked the stubborn pig.
—Why do you want to know my name?
—Because I want to know who I am dealing with.
—Who do you work for?
—I sell organic products… what’s your name? I insisted since he did not have his name attached to his uniform.
By this time the good pig was nowhere in sight.
—You can go.
—What’s your name?
—Torres. He said as he took a deep breath.
I walked away towards my beat up car, got in and started the engine.
—Have good day son. Said the pig.
I wanted to give him my best smile possible, but I just couldn’t do it. I tried to stretched my lips and show my teeth, but my facial features were frozen. I drove away with my unwanted stony face and got inline.

I TOOK HER HOME AND WENT BACK TO THE BEACH

I drove through an improvised Tijuana police checkpoint without incident, I was not pulled over, spoken to, or waved at, the pigs just looked at me stupid — faced. When I had driven about 5 kilometers, I saw flashing red lights behind me. Someone had decided to pull me over in the comfort of secrecy. I knew something was not right. I began to pull over, and the side of the road was full of debris, rocks, and garbage. It felt like I was stopping on a fracture shoulder. I just sat there, trying not to look at my rearview mirrors that reflected the pork’s high beams. But when the pig got off from his police truck I followed his movements with my door mirrors. I didn’t like the way he was holding his holstered gun. He walked slowly in a hesitant phase towards my driver side window. He looked at me, and I looked at him. I knew he was a pig in disguise, because he had fish eyes.
—How are you doing this morning? He asked the question with the demeanor of a sardine.
—I am doing fine and you?
He didn’t answer, but I liked the fact that he didn’t flash my eyes with his flashlight like most swine do when they stop motorists in the dark.
—You’re not doing fine? I asked.
—Let me see the registration of the vehicle.
I reached over the glove compartment, opened the plastic door and put my right hand inside, my fingers caressed some old memories, objects of remembrance, pictures of a better time, tokens of peace and love letters, fractured poems, and the memories than overtook me as I looked for a California piece or paper that was not there. Memories than played in the eye of my heart better than a Martin Scorsese film: I could see myself shooting at the crow with an AK—47, we didn’t have shotguns, so it seemed like the only sensible thing to do, I fired short bursts or rapid fire at it, I liked the way the bird would maneuver amongst the Russian made rounds. It finally dived down over the ridge, I never saw it again.
I looked at the Mexican cop.
—Is okay, you can go. He said with shaky voice.
—You don’t want the registration?
—Just go.
—Buenas noches. I said to him, even although it was in the early morning, it seemed like late at night to me. I drove away into the coming daylight.

AT THE STORE


Bob was a regular customer, a middle age guy obsessed with paranormal phenomena; I liked talking to him when he would come to the store to do his shopping. Bob claimed he worked for some VIP’s as a remote viewer. At that time I was working the Jew store, cleaning shelves and rearranging the product.
—Hello, how are you today? Asked Bob.
—I am doing fine thank you, and you?
—Good, thank you.
—You should go by the marina; there are some old WWII hangars that are being used for aviation experiments done by the government.
—Is that all the way down on J Street?
—Right.
—Where all the sailboats are?
—Correct, across the street form the yachts.
—What’s going on there?
—There’s a nest of osprey, on a pole by the entrance, right by where it says restricted area and no trespassing. You should see the small osprey on the nest. They are getting bigger and stronger; they should be able to fly soon.
—What you said your name is?
—Bob. What’s yours?
—Juan.
—Won?
—No, Juan. … J—u—a—n.
—Okay, very good Juan, make sure to stop by, if you see a brown RV, that’s me. Give me a shout and we can talk about remote viewing while we watch them osprey.
—Yeah, will do.
—Okay, goodbye and take care.
—Likewise.
I noticed that as I was talking to Bob, there was a familiar face at the end of the isle. It was an attractive middle age woman who participated at a writer’s conference in Sonora Mexico. She was pretty, but she seemed kind of crazy amongst all those writers, not crazy in a good way, but in the way of mental illness. Maybe it didn’t help that to see her underage son playing at being a poet and drinking as if there was no tomorrow. That day, at the California Marketplace, she seemed healthier, calmer and at peace. For a moment a thought she was also into mysterious work, kind of like Bob, her presence was more than a coincidence, something definitely suspicious. She glanced at me quickly as she was holding an organic product in her hands, and then she trained he eyes back on the product. Perhaps the good weather gave her back her health. Mexico is hotter than Chula Vista.

SCHOOL

The most memorable event in elementary school happened when a kid with the surname of Macedo and I, began to play with 22’s as if they were firecrackers. Since the cartridges didn’t have any flints to light up, we decided the best way to make them go “bang” was to place them on the floor and drop heavy rocks on them. It seemed like fun, just like fireworks at Christmas and New Years, even though there was a slight notion of danger in the air, an element that made it all the better. My experience with Dracula had to me to some extent, numbed to dangerous activities. It starts to grow in you after awhile, you begin to like such things, and when there’s nothing of the like going on, there’s a repulsive sense of boredom. Everything was going according to plan, we had a group of spectators around us, and we had the power to ignite many childlike smiles in our perimeter. But all of the sudden, my classmate Felipe, had a confused looked in his face, he was touching his left temple with the palm of his hand; he lifted his hand from his head and I could see a tiny streak of blood, he was grazed by the bullet. His soccer game has been interrupted. Since I had detonated all my 22’s, and Macedo was the one who threw the rock that fired the bullet, he was the one who got in trouble; he got expelled form school. His father, an MD, came to school and picked him up. I never saw Macedo again; he probably ended up in private school. This was the first time I realized that doctors, those who heal people, also kept guns and ammo and their houses.
Middle school was also unforgettable, since we lived by the beach and the school I attended was also close to the water, it was more appealing to go and play at the ruins that the storm left when the sea swallowed the first two streets next to the waterfront, than to go to class. There was one hotel that kept its ground and was not destroyed. It just tilted into the sand at a 45 degree angle. We would miss classes and go to our tilt hotel to smoke cigarettes, drink booze, and tell tall tales. It was around this time that I commenced to write my first poems. Poetry that I would write for the pretty girls in my classroom and that later on I would arrange music to it using my father’s guitar. The song went something like this:

Todo ha sido diferente
Todo ha sido malamente
Nunca vino nuestro tiempo
Nunca pude quererte
Cuando tú te asomabas
Por tu linda ventana
Cuando nos amamos
En la playa
Nunca pude quererte

My father did not have much patience to teach me to play, he tried once or twice, and then perhaps, he gave up. So I would grab his Japanese classical guitar, and basically, teach my self to play. The same way I taught myself to shoot his guns at stray dogs, when he was not around; I think he always thought his guns were secure in his hiding place.

LA HUESUDA


—Do you have any weapons of mass destructions? Asked the United States Customs agent.
—Yes.
—Really?
—Aha.
—Where are they?
—Is my pen. The pen was pinned to my blue shirt.
—Your pen is a secret weapon?
—Yeah.
—Why?
—Because it can write names in secret.
—You can go trough. He said as he scratched his nose with his index finger making an obvious reference to the number 1 symbol.
It was something like that, but I think we need to rewind some years back to my second God encounter. I was about 8 years old and this time God came to me in a form of a Mexican bus. It ran over me, it didn’t hurt, but there was sensation of heat on my right leg. It didn’t burn, but it was hot. Perhaps it was the soft tissue being grind between the rear tires and the thin black pavement. My mother once told me that while reading the bible God told her that, the text were God kills Pharaoh’s son, was meant for her. Somehow she saw my father as an evil Pharaoh and that placed me, their firstborn, in a precarious position, so my dad had to change his ways to avert disaster. My father did not change anything. And the angel of God —his death angel— came in a form of a rundown city bus (pero me peló la verga) he didn’t take me out, but it did let me immobilized in a pool of blood. As far as I know I won because I was alive. That was my first stint with that motherfucker, the angel of death, or “la huesuda” like we call it in Mexico. The bus driver, Dracula was his nickname, tried to get away, but the mob got a hold of him. I have never liked vampires ever since. The God of the gentiles is more kind, so I prayed to Him during my 3 month hospitalization. He sent me beautiful nurses that would watch over me and inject pain killers into my IV, then they would sit next to my bed and read books, they wore their white sexy hats and their top shirt buttons were undone, so I could see the profile of their breasts resting on the inside of their unbuttoned uniforms; those were the 70’s. I think this has influenced my desire for my next wife to be either a nurse or a doctor.

BIRTHDAY PARTY



As the children played
In the swimming pool
The blue water
Became a memory machine

I saw myself
In that prosperous nation
Once again
With Caucasian girls
In hot tubs and
And Jacuzzis

I don’t know how
I managed to be
In the middle of
Such opulence
Perhaps it happened
By chance

It feels like it was
So long ago
But it isn’t really
It might have
Been yesterday

From that place
I could see the
WWII bunkers
Where we used to play
When we were young

Right below those
Hamburger like structures
A border patrol jeep
Leaves at high speed
On the dirt road

A cloud of dust
Elevates around
His vehicle

THE BEGINNING

—Why do I have a defect on my teeth? I asked the pretty dentist as she examined my tooth cavities.
—I would be glad to talk about it over a cup of espresso. She said.
I looked for a wedding band on her fingers, I could find none, but I was wearing mine. This was yet another example of many happenings in which good looking women showed an unusual interest in someone with a dogface like mine. I didn’t have any explanation for this phenomenon, this was a strange good luck rash that I could not understand; it was something like a fantasy in B movies. But when there were no women I would see gun carrying guys —young and old— some where obviously nervous and other acted like obnoxious Dirty Harry’s. It was a great pastime of mine to detect their guns in their ankles holsters, shoulder holsters, small of their backs, or near their balls. I could tell who the pros where, I didn’t see many of those. I would always have my 45 on my right side. This is how my story begins, with episodes to good to be true, surreal clips that would adhere to my circumstances like windshield tow—away stickers. No, that’s not true, that’s not how it starts —now that I remember — it is something like this: everything began with a religious experience, not inside a church or a temple, but in the comfort of my bed, the bed of a 6 year old Mexican boy. I was talking to God face to face; Jesus seemed cooler than the bible stories at Sunday school. I liked the fact that God sported a beard, wore sandals and knew how to use a hammer. He did not look like a faggot. We walked on the most beautiful fields, it was the prettiest country I have ever seen —perhaps the kingdom of God has no match— I didn’t feel uncomfortable holding His hand as we walked. After all, this would give me bragging rights. Jesus Christ placed me under a tree and told me to wait for Him there. All of the sudden there were many persons around. It seemed to me that we were all left there to wait for Christ. I tried to run to see if I could see him over the hillside, it was in vain. He was gone. This has been my biggest bittersweet dream. This is how this story begins.

THE SLAVE



The frail man
Has become
The slave
Of the American drug addicts
Those opportunistic
And ugly maidens
With narcotic teeth

Poor thing
He lives with a dilemma
He let them enter
Into his crystal house
Even the towers
Were not able to bear
Such liability
Such weight
Such affliction

Not even his time
As a state policeman
Will help him now

It might be worse
If I smile and say hello
Perhaps as detrimental
As if I decided to remain silent
With a cold face
With an unfriendly glare

SANDLESS MAN


The ocean looks
Like a painting tonight
The heat blends colors

The most beautiful thing
Is to watch children play
In shallow waters

The setting
Of the sun
Is always the
Perfect background

The frail man
Has lost his sand dunes
His comfortable cushions
His attractive resting place
His body is drying out

Solar flares
Keep arriving
Sun—eyed parachutes

The frail man
Has become a
Vulnerable landlord
Target of the elements

His friendly gestures
While driving
The red explorer
Are a surreal mixture
Last efforts
From the
Patron of futility
In the game of survival

YING & YANG A LA ORTHODOX



Bad news
Are good news
Homework
Work@home
Is good & bad
The majority of life
Is both
Good & bad

The Gospel
Is good news
But if you
Turn down
An invitation
You may disappear

The good
And the bad
Are invited
But make sure
You dress to kill
Because if you do not
They bind your
Hands & feet
Like cowboys
At the rodeo
Then they’ll make you
Grind your teeth

What a weeding!
Those angels
Really know
Heavy work

POEMA PARA UN PESCADO FRITO


La geografía
De tu mirada
Es inolvidable

Es el pegamento
Del alma
Que sabe mejor
Con sal y limón

Cerveza helada
En el capricho
Del verano

Con sus sonrisas traviesas
Las universitarias
Son testigos
Del acontecimiento

THEY GET THE JOB DONE


Small calibers are okay
There are not as alluring
As big guns

Affordable working-class
Sportsmanship

There’s Ricochet
In entertainment

Pop pop pop pop
Camouflage of
Mexican firecrackers

Pop pop pop pop
Short distance
Plinking of the soul

Pop pop pop pop
Pop culture
And narco—corridos

Pop pop pop pop
The rhythm of
Experimental poetry

Pop pop pop pop
Accidental entrance
Into the
Kingdom of Heaven

Pop pop pop pop
Educational bang
That saves the lives
Of many

Pop pop pop pop
4 bursts of rapid fire
That foretell
The fall
Of the wicked

CERCANÍA



Una pluma
A la que se
Le acaba la tinta
Es como una vida
Que se extingue

Últimos esfuerzos
De supervivencia

Respiraciones
Esperanzadas
Atisbos agitados
Ojos dilatados

Todo esto
Porque un pedazo
De papel anuncia
La muerte

HE ENTERS DE LA CUEVA
WITH A DEPLETED WOMAN



Jorge seems calmer
Jovial & happy
More relaxed

He placed himself
At my work orders

He said
He knows
How to use
Picks & shovels

Those historical tools
Used in
The Mexican
Independence war

The Opus Dei
Teach work
As a sacrament

Something I find
Fascinating

I think
We are going
To understand
Each—other
Very well

DUSTY PIANO



Music makes
Las teclas smile

It’s understandable
While he had such
A stern look before

With a front grill
Like that
I would also be
Hesitant to
Flash that
Colgate smile

He said he
Knows how to
Work on cars

He better work
On his choppers
Before he losses
All of them

CROSS—TRAINING MYSTICAL



God
I see you

Next to the nervous man
Walking with
His horses

I see you
God

Balancing
Flying helicopters
With your
Pinky finger

I hear you
God

In the
Trembling voices
Of cold agents

God
You melt ICE
With your presence

The holy mystics
Were right
You are
A consuming fire

I see you
God

Beyond the janitors
Who work
With fire—sticks
And the
Foo Fighters
That hover
Above them

God
You live

In the heat
Of exercise

On the hands
Of the cook
Who cleans
Black beans

Precious bits
Of life
Raw grains
Of energy

God
You are

A fist of words
That overcomes
Your enemies

MEXICAN PSALM


The sentry spoke
Into the public telephone
“No fume papá”
He said with his voice
Full of tenderness
And concern

The ambulance
Led the way to
To la Cruz Roja

I followed it
It helped my memory
It opened the night
To the fat lady
Who likes to sing

She sang happy
Romantic songs
Her face would change

With each voice inflection
Those were pop songs
Songs full of infatuation

Sometimes this place
Feels like a
Godless zone

But when God smiles
I can see Him
In the eyes of people
On moving cars
Near fishing rods
And the martial arts

POEMA PARA UN RADIO


El radio se tropezó
Con un elemento

Sus sonidos
Fueron como
Un estornudo

Me gusta
Atrapar pensamientos
Con plumas importadas

Porque permanecen
En el aire
Como helicópteros
Encandilados

FOOD


I am brave vegetarian
A courageous vegan

If my doctor tells me to eat
Carne Asada
I do what the good
Doctor ordered

And if I see
Carnitas in the way
Then I savor
The aftertaste
Of fairness

I risk heart attacks
And death
By diabetes

I take everything
Not with a grain
But with a lot
Of salt

My health food friends
Tell me I’m on the
Path of death

I milk cows
Risking prostate cancer

I rather not smoke
But if I do
I prefer camels
Leaving my lungs vulnerable
To biological weapons

Once you have
A little bit
Then you
Get a taste
For it

MÚSICA



El canto
Del comerciante
Es una canción desesperada

Música longeva
Se sufrimiento

La felicidad se enciende
Sobre sus rostros
Cuando tocan
Sus instrumentos

Olvidan las congojas
De sus días
Por esos dicen
Que quieren
Morir cantando

Escape repentino
De lo inevitable

REUNION


The beautiful wife
Of my childhood friend
Says I am
Very famous

I understand
Because of him
And his lovely bride
That bananas
Are an antidote
Against cramps

I always believed
In the healing properties
Of potassium

ORBIT


I walk
Cutting the moon
In half

My hands
Aware of the line
That divides
My body

Life & death
Love & war
Water & the burning
Element of creation

I walk
Slicing the moon
In half

I am
A happy
New planet

GAMES


Children play
To grownup game

The imagine
Killing foes
From another land

Invaders of leisure
Make believe homicide
Essential war games

No need for nintendo
This is better
Than x box

Imagination has
Its own
Special effects

TADEO


Are you the apostle?
Or the saint
With the covert smile

Who betrays God?

I tell you this:

Human rights
For the little children

Human rights
For loveable angels

Human rights
For the growing family

Human rights
For Spanish speakers

Human rights
For the confederation
Of fish eyed agents

Human rights
For the survival of
Rosarito Beach
(Little Rosary Beach)

Human rights
For those who run in fright
Wearing cowboy boots
And tennis shoes

Human rights
For the dust that levitates
From the dirt roads
Gravitating around
Brave beat up & hurt
Automobiles

Human rights
For decapitated officers

Human rights
For the winners & losers

Human rights
For the musicians
Who incite dance
And song
Musical love of war

Human rights
For the writers
That prophesy
With their
Japanese pens

Hey Mr.
Human Rights
Are you my friend
Or my adversary?

roses are red

violets are blue

i want to

have fun

with you

POEM 7


Poetry tends to change
The meaning of words

It can also
Change colors

The school seems ready
For heavy work
They like fighting
In the water
My kind of angels

I don’t think peroxide
Will be a problem
Metaphors tend to
Change things

The skins turn red
With the rays
Of the sun

The ball of fire
Burns off
The gray
In the clouds
Overcast disappears

But the heavens
And the oceans
Remain blue

If we can’t find
A compromise
If we can’t agree
Green will take over
Reality will be healthier

TÚ


Escribo en la mesa
El café está un lado
De la hoja blanca

De vez en cuando
Te miro

Me observas acongojada
Te sonrío

ART


You have to see
Poetry as an
Art form

Not a sin
But a virtue

Like that of
A Saint
A Shaman
A poet

Frugality
Is spiritual

Blessed are
The poets in spirit
Because they shall
Be comforted

Y & E


I could see
The clouds
Burning like fine
Cuban tobacco

I was enchanted
With the effects
Of marketing

I was loving
Every girl

Because I knew
To love beauty
Is the right
Thing to do

I have never
Met an
Ugly girl anyway

It was a motion
Of principle
Not of covetousness

ANOTHER ONE


Jim Morrison
Was also an alien

He was obsessed
With crossing borders

He would go crazy
In the pyramids
Of Mexico

He wrote & sang
That catchy tune

Break on through
To the other side

What a nice song
To listen too
While on the line
Waiting to cross
To America

HENRY’S MARKETPLACE
CHULA VISTA WITH
DAMAGES


Abuse
Neglect
Hatred
&
Poison

The store where
The farmers go
To buy poppy seeds

The dead
Chinese fish
INSIDE
Ron Cohn’s case
Are more efficient
Than polonium 210

Eco fruit
Baptized
With legal
Pesticides

Tenebrous presence
Axis of intoxication
With prosecutions

Organic dust
On grocery shelves
With canisters
Of mystical death

The poor
Disenfranchised
Disenchanted
Slaves
Are the workers
From the 3rd world
Competing with
Caucasian counterparts
For the favor
Of the rich man

Such a mirage
Of fairness
Adulteration of equality
Manufacturing of
Workman’s suffering

Cascade of liabilities
With frozen bread
Ready for
The ovens of greed
Blue words
In the grey sea
Of retail