Assuming a forest won’t stay the same
[…] a mess, /
you wake up elevated in a cloud of grief, birdsong /
is floating through an open window like a promise. /
Category: Poetry
A Place Without Wind
Yet the well dried up and the birds fled. /
So the people bowed before the king and asked for guidance. /
Sacrificio & When We Speak
When we speak our languages, we claim our culture; we claim what’s ours, and like our ancestors, when we speak, there’s power.
Sábado, Early AM & The Songs I Still Sing
The songs of ayer won’t ever fade, /
Your guitar’s strings I strum, /
And your old records still play. /
Abuela
se volvió hacia mí y, /
con ojos trasnochados /
y una cara como la mía, /
me devolvió la llamada /
Nopal en la frente
My barrio allowed me to see the dark side of cholo culture /
but it also taught me the proud side of our gente /
the language of the pachuco, órale! /
los alfas visten de rosa
los alfas visten de rosa, /
como Juanga, como Walter /
adornados con lentejuelas /
con flores y mariposas, /
Black Beans and Ham Hocks
Sometimes, I feel like the ham hocks /
left in the pot of beans to soften.
