CROP CIRCLES


Do you dig it?
Yes, I dig it
I also dig the tattoo
On your ankle
Do you?
Yes, I do
What else you dig?
I dig you
I dig you too
Where you digging
When you asked
If I am a poet?
Polka dots?
No
What else you dig?
I dig trenches
In times of stillness
But I dig you the most
Why?
Because of tender memories
I dig what you have created
I dig your mind
I dig your miniskirt

ESTRADA 2


Cloning is
Obstinate stupidity
Insistence in modification

Not everything
Can be altered

Do you think I am German scientist?

You better look
For blues eyes
And pallid skin elsewhere

You too
Don’t look
Like Erick Estrada

You too
Have a genetic flaw

You like
A mortified Doberman
With an owner
That has neglected
Your mind

Each time you wag
Your tale
You tell a lie

You
Like this
Are most likely
To autodestruct

Longevity is
Not one of your strengths
I think you know this

And if I adopted you
Police uniform and all
I couldn’t guarantee anything

It be so painful
To teach you new tricks
That would be inhumane

I will not torture

But you
Are so dirty
I will give you bath

What do you expect me to do?

You
Coming around
Interfering with work

Do you expect me to
Give you a bone?

You can not change what you are

I can’t help
To see you
To look at you
To think of you
To measure you

To place you in
A window of intuition

I know
It is a sad picture
But that’s what I do

I can not change what I am

SPLENDLOR


The morning is like an empty cup
And the sun hurts my eyes
With it cancerous splendor

The sun has more radioactivity
Than a nuclear battle ship

I still believe love
Is what kills the best

Ultraviolet rays are kisses
Hidden inside the skin
The pores are reflectors
Of this energy

People camp on the side of the road
Selling human ideas
Selling human sins
And human souls

More than horrifying
This is tedious
Because no one wants
To buy insignificance

I rather go back to the hill
And stare at my empty cup
And let the sun burn
What is left of you

Radiation is my radio
Radiation is my car
Radiation with constellations
Radiation from afar

Only beauty
Is truly shocking
That’s why they fear
The Most High

Miserable servants
Up for sale
They’re about to be released
And when this happens
And their domination stops
The will no know
What to do

INTENTION


Una camioneta verde se detiene
Frente a la choza
Un zombie sale y habla con el chofer
El polvo los rodea


Over the years I have seen
A white man walking the dirt road
In this dusty town
I have seen him at liquor stores
Grocery stores
Mechanic shops
At the beach
Down the road from my home
Or walking past street corners
Or mixing concrete by hand
Or just standing behind me
Looking very dirty
Looking like a broken man

I suspect he might be American
But the simple fact that he’s white
Does not guarantee he's from the USA
As a matter of fact there’s more
Nonwhites in the States than Anglo-Saxons

He could be from:

Russia
England
Germany
France
Spain
Israel

Any place on earth….

Or just an Alien
With a fading disguise

I been tempted to give him a hand
Help him out because he is
In desperate need

But he looks at me
The same way
I look at him

How can I behave like an altruist
Without committing suicide?

How to approach him without
The concern of:

Killing or being killed?

I confess I don’t have a spectacular answer
My precious secrets
Will not be enough for this dilemma
But I can’t just look the other way
And pretend he does not exist

I will have to do what
I always do when
I ran out

Of options
Of answers
Of ideas
Of bullets
Of medicine
Of hope
Of sex
Of health
Of food
Of beer
Of friends
Of foes
Of work
Of leisure

I will have to pray

Pray to the God of the poor
The God of the slaves
The God of a hypnotized generation
The God of my peers whom are loosing their minds

A God of endurance
A God of supernatural strength

To the God of normalcy that hangs crucified
Inside Catholic temples
To the dismay and terror of escapists
And to the hope
Of those who feel just like Him

A God of reality
A God that knows pain first hand
A God that can relate with unspeakable feelings

A God who is invisible
A God who makes his children invisible
When they a crossing
The borders of oppression

A brown God
A dark God
A God with a popular name
A God that looks very human

Like a Mexican
A Palestinian
A Chicano or
A Blackman

A God that does not need machines
To levitate
To elevate
To go home
To come back for us

A God that likes to walk on the beach
And continues walking inside the water
But He never swims
He just keeps walking

A God that created everything
The visible
The invisible
Every flying being
Known or unknown
And every man & beast
Ruling the world or
Living underground

NILA


Nila
I love your face
What if we were hunting together
And you were single
And we fell in love

Nila
What would happen
As we lay side by side
In the darkness
The burning flame of love
Would keep us awake
Watchful for the sharp twist to the heart

Nila
You have the presence of nature
You have an overwhelming semblance
Your beauty is strength

Nila
I tremble when I see you
Because I know what you are capable of

Nila
You are a ferocious river
A killing lioness
A hurricane
A tornado
A smile that disables

Nila
You are an alien
A dove
A fisherwoman
A favorite from God

Nila
I know why you are a conqueror
I know you
I love you
I wish you a long life
I see you
I dream you


Nila
My teeth are breaking apart
Like when
Saint Genevieve presence
Would pulverize
The pottery
The clay
The ceramics
All the brims where
Demons would hide
Awaiting the lips of children

Nila
Tonight you have won
The hearts of the world
The hope of the people
Deep grateful feelings
From those extraordinary creatures
The need you the most

ACROSS THE STREET


That’s right
You wear your face
As it were heavy
As if the weight
Is going to break your neck

Most people could think
It’s your own fault
But I suspect you
Are being manipulated
Influenced by someone that spooked
The life out of you

I understand your position
And I think there’s hope for you
You are going to have to serve somebody
Remember that Bob Dylan tune?

I think someone spooked the life out of him too
And he started writing protestant songs

His premise
Zimmerman’s
Is correct

You are in a world of pain
Might as well make that hurt
Work in your favor
And serve with
Fine & beautiful
Human beings

OPERATION


As you recover in your bed, I want you to know that I am with you, that you are more beautiful than ever, that soon everything will be wonderful…


When I was
On the operating table
I was told by one of the attendants:

“You are going to get very cold”

This operation was different from the rest
Never did I feel more alone

At first
As I entered the O.R.
I was afraid of the surgeon
I study his eyes
And he also
Looked afraid

And I felt a cruel coldness possessing my body
And I thought to myself:

This is it man
You are not going to make it this time
You are not coming out alive

And I clenched my teeth and my jaws
To enter the other side
To prepare for a possible
Encounter with God
Or the devil

And I felt a warm touch
On my right hand
And I looked to see
Who was touching me
And I could only see her eyes
She had the most beautiful eyes

The eyes of a Byzantine nun
The eyes of pious Muslim woman
The eyes of companionship
The eyes sympathy
The eyes of hope
The eyes of arson
The eyes of life
The eyes of true love

And I fell in to a comfortable sleep
With her touch

I thought of my first girlfriend
I thought of my first wife
I though of wine and
I thought of the Eucharist

And I reckoned all the other times
When I was in dire straits
There was always someone there

With me
For me

Like the time an American was in the hospital
In my room
Next to my bed
I did not understand
The English language back then
But she was trying to speak to me
To comfort me
To lift my spirits up
God only knows why she was altering her face
Perhaps she was tired and she was on her way out
And I was young and was on my way in
And my nurse
My beautiful nurse
Another one of those that emanates warmth
Oh how I loved her!
She told me my roommate’s codename was
La Belleza

I was 8 years old
But I felt like 18

In spite of feeling alone
You are never alone
There’s always someone
There’s always something
Near enough or from afar
Willing & able to touch
With you
For you

FATHER


Father
When I asked you
If our brethren
Had started the war
You told me the truth

A pitch roof
Is bad for missiles

Father
The speaker
Had the eyes
Of a dog
And you sat
Next to me
I felt so proud
And the lecturer
Scratched his beard

Father
Again you were with me
And the federal judge
Ruled in favor
Of children
In favor of happiness
In favor of the future

Father
How I admired you
That day when
Your gorgeous opponent
Tried to seduce you
To persuade you
To influence you
With her exquisite touch
But you did not released
Your harvest

Father
And the city looked more beautiful
And I was struck with contemplation
Looking at the river
Through the window
In the skyscraper

Father
You were always
So kind in church
And so fierce
At work

Father I came to understand
And to love
Your choice of diets
How happy I was
When our community
Ate together and
I saw you
Slicing pieces of ham

Father
You made me
You thought me
You inspired me
And you terrified me
With things I did not understand
And you were so strong
How did you get so strong?

EL PERRITO


El perro─oveja
Es una oveja
Pero también
Un perro

Por eso
Le gustan las ovejitas
Y también las perritas

El perro─oveja
Es manso
Pero no menso

Sabe identificar
A otros híbridos
Sin asustar
A los niños

SELFISHNESS


Taxi drivers
And a middle age prostitute
With school supplies
In her hands

Assembled like
A heard of cattle
With mad cow disease

Gathering of champions
At God’s threshold
Luminaries of decay
Factories of poisoned visions

Waiting for time travel
Waiting for the truth
Waiting for the unknown
Waiting for anything but this

Their journey
Will not begin with
A secret government machine
Nor with the magic
Of shamans or witches
Or Pentecostal frenzies
Or mystical steps
Or Hollywood’s New Age

Their last card
Will be pulled from under the table
From under their sleeve
From the deep
From the dark
From the place
Where the sobbing starts
From the energy of a wolf
Leaking his own blood
On a sharp knife
From everywhere but here

The middle-class ones
Will pull the trigger
The rich ones
Will slid their wrists
In a bathtub
With boiling water

The poor will use a rope
But this will not workIt will break
It will give in
To the weight
Of their failings

They will hit the floor
The stronger ones
Will attain concussions
The weaker ones
Broken bones

THE STUDENT


How fast he learns
Music is intent

The guitar
Is the perfect companion

You can touch it softly
And create you own reality

His notes relay innocence
His music travels
Through drug addicted ghettos

His strumming
Guards the balance of happiness

His fingertips struggle
With chords of survival

NIGHTFALL

You look like a star
My neurotic spy
Your sister is smaller than you
But I love you both
You 2 hang from the sky
Remarkable cosmetics
Of a superpower

COMANDANTE ARAGON


Don’t try to
Pull your hand away
As I try to greet you

Comandante de Policia

A firm hand shake
Shows character

If you don’t like me
Just say so
But don’t hesitate

It doesn’t make
A good first impression

It doesn’t look good
In the presence
Of your subordinates

It was not my intention
To reel you into this

Art is sometimes
Full of surprises

Your police officers
Were euphoric
About the radios

Perhaps I can
Sell it to you too


A CONTRITE POLICEMAN

“Sorry man, I fucked up” The cop said.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I called the Comandante”
“Nothing to worry about right? We are amongst friends aren’t we?” I asked.
The police officer kept his silence. I looked at his nametag and it read Hector Estrada. I thought about Erick Estrada for a moment, but Hector was not as cool as Erick. I pressed on.
“Hector, there’s no need to be so concerned, it is only a radio. You do like it right?”
“Well yes, and if it is okay, I would like to buy one from you”
“Of course it is okay, and I would be happy to sell you one”
“Do you have cell phone?” Hector asked.
“I don’t like those things”
“Why?”
“Because they give you cancer”
“How so?”
“Do you know what a microwave is?”
“An electric oven?”
“Something like that, you see Hector, cell phones work with microwaves, and when you place the cell phone on you ear, what happens is that the microwaves enter your brain through your ear canal. And your brain begins to cook.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, Hector and what is even more dangerous to your health is when you drive in your squad car using one of those machines. Once you are using a cell phone in the comfort of you own automobile, the microwaves convert you car into a microwave oven. You wouldn’t want to be turned into a taco. Would you?
Hector’s pupils looked like green beans, he looked towards his right at saw an unmarked white pick up truck enter the compound’s parking lot.
“The Comandante is here” Hector said.
“Relax Hector, everything will be alright”
I looked at a cop that was standing next to a wall behind Hector. He was in the background and he looked like he was about to cry.

SUNDAY AFTERNOON

We drove towards grandma house. The 3 of us sat silently in the car; I was thinking how much I enjoyed the liturgy that had concluded a few moments ago. A good liturgy has the following elements: passion, drama, and a heavy dose of art.
The children perhaps were thinking of a theme park, or about the toys they would like to play with. Traffic began to slow down and soon we could see a checkpoint ahead.
“What happened dad?”
“It’s the Federales”
“What are they doing?”
“They making sure everything is alright”
“Look at their machine guns dad”
“Yes, machines guns” Now I knew what their precious minds were focusing on.
When our car approached the officer, he looked us, he scrutinized us, he studied us and he said:
“Pull over the side of the road” He had a chilango accent.
This was a first, since the Federal Police was restructured by the Calderon administration, that we were stop by them, the last time a federal pulled me over he had to as asked for a cigarette and then he let us go. I remember at that time my boys were two beautiful babies sound a sleep on their car seats. This time there would be no cigarettes since I don’t smoke anymore.
“Registration please” He asked as we looked at him silently.
“Here you are” I gave him a folded registration card that I took out from a coin pouch.
“Your driver license please”
“There you go” I took the card from my wallet and handed to him.
“What do you do?”
“I sell radios”
“Can you open the trunk?”
“Yes, I can” I got out of the car, walked towards the back of my car, inserted the key, and twist first to the right, and then to the left. The trunk opened. My briefcase was in plain view.
“Open the briefcase”
I opened the briefcase and step away from it. He inspected the overall contents except for the inner compartment.
“What in there?” He asked with a trembling voice refereeing to the unopened section.
“A computer”
“How long have you been in the radio business?” The pitch in his voice was shaking.
“I have been an operator for a very long time”
“You can go sir, sorry for the inconvenience”
“Have a nice day” I said.
The other policemen stop all oncoming traffic; I accelerated and began to drive on the road again.
“What do you learned today kids?”
“That persuasion is better than guns” My boys answered in unison and with boredom in their voices.
“That’s right children, never forget that”

YOU


You
Beautiful native girl
Walking next to me
At the grocery store
You make me feel alive

You
Old man whistling
As I pass you by
You reaffirm
My existence

You
Smiling soldier

You
Nervous businessman

You
Tourist town
With psychotic charm
Confirmation of consciousness

You
One man carwash

You
Sweating policeman

You
Friendly fisherman
Who likes to share
With you fellowman

You
Fisher of humans
Teacher of those
Willing to learn

You
Yellow airplane
You visit me daily
You force me to look up
Towards the heavens

FISHING IN PEMEX


“Let’s go fishing”
“Been watching too many fishing shows on the tube?”
“No, I am hungry”
“Charlie told me the best fishing is done by the PEMEX condominiums”
“We already have a grill, it be great to throw some fish on it”
“That’s a good idea, but I rather use the grill for carne asada”
“You know I am a vegetarian”
“I know man; I am just giving you a hard time, fishing is like hunting, is better in the early morning or the late afternoon”
“I see”
“Yeah man, we can use the boy’s fishing rods, all we have to do is get some used sparkplugs ─we are going to be fishing oily fish anyways─ from a mechanic and use them as sea leads, and we need to stop and pick some fishing hooks.
“Very good then”

We threw the stuff in the car and made our way towards town. I drove slowly because of all the potholes; this adds some longevity to the suspension of any used car. We could see the ocean down below us; it is this way on sunny days. We were heading west, traveling down the hill. One problem I have to face when I drive slowly is dust. Dust always catches with you. I have tried driving faster on other occasions to see if I could leave the clouds of dust behind just to watch them forming in front of me. Dust is just a problem one has to deal with it. Once we hit the pavement we were faced with other realities that need to be taken into consideration, like semi trucks, and taxi drivers, and unlicensed drivers (one of those put me out of order for more than a year) greedy cops and smiley soldiers sporting machine guns.

“Are you going to stop for the sparkplugs?”
“Yes, there’s a tire shop up here”
“Do you know them?”
“I think they know me”
“Okay”
“Alright, I’ll be right back” I got out of the car and approached the owner.
“Do you have any used sparkplugs? You know, for fishing?”
“No, sorry we do not” He showed some genuine consternation.
“How about nuts and bolts or any thing we can use for sea leads”
“No, you see, we fish too” The 3 grubby fellows that were sitting next to him smiled affirming their boss’s remarks.
“Okay, thank you”
“Wait” one of the grubby ones said.
“Yes?”
“If you go up the road you will find a mechanic that does taxis, he will have your sparkplugs”
“Thanks man”
“Good luck”
I got back in my car and I was asked:
“Any luck?”
“No, but I was directed to the right location”
“Good”
“Yeah”
I drove a few blocks and we spotted a bunch of broken yellow taxis.
“I think we’re here” I said.
“I believe so” Cruz said.
“I be right back”
“Okay”
I spotted a guy in a taxi looking at me; I tried to approach him but he signaled with his hand, directing me to go inside the compound. I walked in and saw a guy under the hood of a yellow taxi.
“Buenas tardes” I said
He looked at me and did not say anything.
“Do you have sparkplugs? I pressed.
“How many do you need?”
“2”
“Wait here” He walked inside a shed and came out with 2 oily sparkplugs and handed them to me.
“Thank you” I said.
He did not say anything and went back to work under the hood of the car. As for me, I got back to my car and handed the 2 sparkplugs to Cruz.
“Got them” I said.
“Good”
“Now lets get out of here, we still need to go and get the hooks”
“Do you want me to watch out for you as you back out?”
“No, I’ll be okay”

At the store I saw two girls who were stocking shelves, and I asked the prettiest one.
“Do you have fishing hooks?”
“Yes, I think we do, can you show him please” she said to her coworker.
“Yes, comes with me sir” She said. I followed her and noticed she had a beautiful body. We arrived at the sports department and she knelt next to a gun case and looked through the window of a wooden box.
“Sorry sir, we are out of hooks”
“Thank you for looking”
“You are welcome”
I needed to break a $100 dollar bill so I walked to the tortilleria, grabbed a kilo, and hurried back to the cash register.
“I can help you here sir”
“Yes, thank you” I place the kilo of tortillas next to her.
“Is that all?”
“Yes” I handed her the bill.
“Do you have anything smaller?”
“No” I smiled and then she smiled back.
“Can I give you your change in pesos?”
“No, dollars please” I smiled once again and I saw how her pupils minimized till they looked like two small planets.
“Okay then, I am going to get your change” She ran towards an office. She was pretty and reminded me of a girl I once wrote a song for. When she came back she gave me my change and wished me a good day. I did the same.
“No hooks man”
“Tough luck”
“I’ll try the radio”
“Good idea”
“CQ, CQ, CQ, where can I get fish hooks?
“Deportes Atlas” said the voice coming from the speaker.
“Thank you and 73”
“73” said the radio operator.
“Okay, to the sporting store it is”

It was difficult to find parking in downtown but with persistence we managed to park in front of the store.
“You know the drill, I be right back?”
“I know”
“May I help you” said the clerk behind the counter.
“Yes, I need fishing hooks”
“You came to the right place, come over here and let me show you” The case was filled with all sizes and styles of hooks.
“I am looking for small ones, I am fishing from the shore”
“What do you thing of these ones?” He showed me a size 6 hook.
“Perfect, I’ll takes 6 of them”

We drove towards the beach looking for the fabled PEMEX Condominiums. Charlie always told incredible stories of successful fishing at the place. I got lost and ended up a military check point.
“Is the way to the PEMEX Condominiums? I asked
The military man was carrying a side arm, it might have been a 9 millimeter or a 45, it was hard to tell. He was probably a Captain; I could see 3 soldiers with him carrying M16’s.
“No, this the Thermoelectric Plant, you can’t fish here but I show you how to get to the condominiums” He said with a smile.
“Is it true there’s good fishing there?”
“Yes, but as you know, is a matter of luck”
“You are right”
“Good luck”
“Thanks”
We drove away towards the condominiums. I was eager to cast my bait, but I knew we had more than enough time.
“Did you see the face of the soldier on the booth?
“No”
“He looked preoccupied”
“Really?”
“Yes, I hope they don’t shoot us with a bazooka”
“No, the Captain looks like a good man”

At the PEMEX condominiums we did not see any spectacular fishing spot; there was no parking and no way to access the beach from those government buildings.
“No wonder” said Cruz
“What?”
“All the good looking girls we see at the main boulevard are coming from here”
“I think you are right, I think Charlie is also right, but I don’t feel like fishing inside a penthouse.
“Yeah”
“Let’s get out of here; we’re going to the PEMEX Beach”
“Okay”
“We need to get close to the dikes… that’s were the fish are”
“Great, perhaps we can get on top of them and fish from up there”
“No, I don’t think the soldiers like that, they’re very protective”
“There just making a big deal out of nothing”
“They don’t like accidents”
“Yes, better play it safe”

We parked the car and walked about half a mile to the dikes. I was tempted to drive on the sand, but did not want to risk getting stuck, at any rate, exercise is medicine. We got close to the rocks, rigged our fishing rods and cast away. There were other fishermen doing better than us. Nonetheless we were fishing. We were concentrating on all the fish we could get.
“What’s up with the rabbit hunter?” said Cruz.
“He’s protecting the dikes, just doing his job”
The soldier walked on the rocks, he was wearing cammo fatigues and a M16 hanged from his shoulder. His face was that of a happy child, playing on his back yard.

WALKING


I like my
Hippo boots

Each step
Resurrects a memory

I can climb
To heaven
With my
Hippo boots

I can smile
All the way
To happiness
When my feet
Are surrounded
With my
Hippo boots

SHORT HAIRCUT & GLASSES


The creator
Of conspiracies
Enters the
Children’s playground
He has a
Beautiful wife
He carries
A baby
In his arms
And another one
Of his offspring
Walks beside him

TERRACERÍA


La pareja de nativos
Caminan por
Un lado de la carretera
Pintoresca aparición
Siguen el camino
Avanzan hacia abajo
Saludando al polvo
Y ella habla
Por un celular

ASHTRAY


The cowboys hats moved up & down. Their drunken owners dancing to Norteño Corridos. Their wives, lovers, or girlfriends, were shaken across the dance floor like worn puppets. The Band was good. Indian looking fellows played with a lot of feeling. The accordion sounded great. Superb funeral music. Since I don’t like to dance just for fun I sat at the bar and tried to write my way out of a dilemma. Nothing in particular, I just like to think in those terms when I am writing. I like to think I am solving some kind of problem. I looked towards my right and I saw a goofy guy standing to close for comfort.

“What do you want?” I asked.
“An ashtray”
“Where are you from?”
“Iran”
“Sorry I don’t smoke”
“I need an ashtray”
“Why don’t you get it from the waiter”
“Passed me that ashtray” he pointed to a black ashtray next to me.
“Aren’t you Muslim?”
“Yes”
“I thought Mulsims did not do booze, look at you, you’re all fucked up… not that I care, we Catholics are allowed to enjoy good liquor. I just don’t have your ashtray”
“Ashtray….”
“You know, when I used to smoke, I used to smoke Camels”

The smiley Iranian stopped smiling and walked away.
Ashes… I have been around ashes all my life. It’s just too much.
I also got up walked outside of bar and I could feel the ocean’s breeze and it felt good. I looked at the lights of the nearby boats that pierced the darkness and I wished them good luck.