The sea is still, a painted glass,
Its breath a hush upon the shore,
As golden light begins to pass
Through skies that blaze and burn no more.
The herons call in liquid cries,
Then vanish in the amber haze,
And clouds drift low like lullabies
Composed in fire for end of days.
A sailboat waits—its canvas furled—
As if it, too, would pause and dream,
While orange melts to rose, then pearl,
And stars awake in quiet gleam.
The palms lean close as if they yearn
To kiss the sun’s last glowing thread—
O heart, how often must we learn
To love the light before it’s fled?
soft lavender skies
intertwining with twilight
land of enchantment
Sandstorm churning in my mind tonight,
driven by the wind of change.
And I know… it’s not that easy.
Drove a million miles and it is all the same,
spinning through the circles of my mind.
And it’s cold… it’s not that easy.
But there’s a feeling unlike any other thing I know -
on the deserts of New Mexico,
I see forever but it’s not… not as far as I can see.
Yeah, there’s a feeling unlike any other thing I know -
on the deserts of New Mexico.
I see forever but it’s not… not as far as I can see.
Sandstorm churning in my mind tonight,
thunder rolling out across the plain.
And I know… it’s not that easy.
Felt it wash away as all the rain came down,
wash away the memories from my mind.
Let it flow… it’s not that easy.
Cuz there’s a feeling unlike any other thing I know -
on the deserts of New Mexico
I see forever but it’s not… not as far as I can see.
Yeah, there’s a feeling unlike any other thing I know -
on the deserts of New Mexico
I see forever but it’s not… not as far as I can see.
I see forever but it’s not… not as far as I can see.
the terrain’s more expansive here
you said, as if obscurities that had been,
moved aside so the eye
could soak in highways singing
restless blues, as if language
materialized straight from that feeling
of nowhere coupled with too many
places to be, and you can see
what you want to, blanketing the spaces
with clutter from your mind
by accident like deja vu
I keep turning mid-drive
to stare at the unusual wedding
of indifference and curiosity,
your green eyes touching even
further than the collective
of what remains enchantingly
unspoken
Stars form patterns to Ancient's Zodiac.
Creatures emerge, especially the snake.
Mayan watchers see the serpent go back,
Back into the earth at Equinox break.
What portends, only prophesies can make.
Past the temple is Astronomer's dome.
There prophets see futures where the stars roam.
Old boat, time-worn path,
Dolphins glide through emerald waves,
Leaping side by side—
Their joyous dance in the mist,
Paints the sea with morning bliss.
My love, there was no greater
she held my heart in her hands
her first kiss
the arrow that pierced
if only she could know
I ceased to exist
when she let me go
a thousand love letters
before and after
meant nothing at all
she thought I was empty
depression hides your soul
she has her own wounds
happiness it seems
lives in the clouds
all my desires of long ago
buried in Acambaro
In Chichen Itza, Mexico
stands a Myan pyramid-
built for snake god,
Kukulkan, their feathered deity.
Wonder Of The World-
with mystery, this temple
echoes spirit bird callings-
strange sounds, enigma bound.
Visitors clap their hands-
hear the responsive chirps
of the Quetzal bird
representing the Mayan soul.
This spirit, trilling from
the Pyramid of Kukulkan,
answers in revered sounds-
through their sacred bird.
Sandstorm churning in my mind tonight,
driven by the wind of change,
and I know… it’s not that easy.
Drove a million miles and it is all the same,
spinning through the circles of my mind,
and it’s cold… it’s not that easy.
But there’s a feeling unlike any other thing I know -
on the deserts of New Mexico,
I see forever but it’s not… not as far as I can see.
Yeah, there’s a feeling unlike any other thing I know -
on the deserts of New Mexico.
I see forever but it’s not… not as far as I can see
Sandstorm churning in my mind tonight,
thunder rolling out across the plain,
and I know… it’s not that easy.
Felt it wash away as all the rain came down,
wash away the memories from my mind.
Let it flow… it’s not that easy.
Cuz there’s a feeling unlike any other thing I know -
on the deserts of New Mexico
I see forever but it’s not…
not as far as I can see.
Yeah, there’s a feeling unlike any other thing I know -
on the deserts of New Mexico
I see forever but it’s not…
not as far as I can see.
I see forever but it’s not…
not as far as I can see.
My great great grandmother could not wait.
Day of the Dead was two weeks away.
She visited me on the 16th of October.
I was sworn to secrecy, but they knew.
Because I somehow knew how to do things
That only she knew how to do
Because she showed me
Her ways, and they recognized them
Will she return on the Day of the Dead?
They asked me as if I am the expert.
I do not know, I told them, frightened.
I was only four, making sugar skulls.
Pata-pat pat pat
Making tortillas by hand
They have to be round,
And the masa must be fresh.
Ah, but so good when they're fried.
Red Gems
A middle-aged man in an old wheelchair
moves slowly and with determination.
On a crowded street filled with happy tourists’ feet
his arms look as if
they’d finished an Olympic race.
Since he has no legs, he cradles his wares
between lap and chest.
Today he sells tiny bracelets and anklets.
I pass him gingerly, bearing an awkward smile.
A half-block down, my conscience stops me.
I return to him
crouch down to meet him
pick out an anklet
hand him 40 pesos
his eyes glisten.
Why didn’t I ask his name?
Weeks later, this anklet still
adorns my smooth white skin.
I so love these plastic, shiny
ruby-red gems
held together by tough black string.
Juan tells you he is an immigrant, northern mexico
that he learned to speak english in iowa
and these coupled are the reason
Juan's accent is different
Juan is not mexican
Juan lives in fear of americans
Juan in america is a raghead
a camel jockey, sand
this is not unique to america
the world is filled with such
infidel, hymie, gentile, untouchable
the word hardly matters
the effect is achieved
somewhere in the stratum
there is a lesser being
and while all are not as such
there are more than enough
to keep men such as Juan
ashamed of their heritage
the most segregated hour is 10 a.m.
on sunday morning, those easy pieties
of the church bizarre
mr. jackson sits in front of his mirror
in a prominent section of los angeles
mutilating himself into a white man
sometimes society is so successful
in its emasculation
we become our own honkey
then again, how can we be asked
to give up our
when even god seems to refuse
Phoenix 93
Teotl is the shining gold light above everything
Wearing a mask of white and grey clouds
Teotl is the breath and wind of all seen and unseen
Greeting all who return to its arms
Split a piece of wood, hear a heart pulsating within
Lift a rock, smell fine incense burning
Open up a flower bud, see threads interlacing
Know the turquoise snake shedding its skin
Be reborn as a splendid tlamatini
Remaining on the straight narrow road
Be a passer-by on the slippery land of mud
Walking between maguey and thorns
Walking towards the golden light shining above clouds
Poem inspired by Saying 77 of the Gospel of Thomas combined with Aztec philosophy (especially the concept of "Teotl")
As another refugee dies
camped along America's southern border
a poor family seeks law and order
In Mexico
(In Mexico)
And the family cries.
They didn't expect to find hatred here
it's another burden that adds to their fear
In Mexico
(In Mexico)
People, don't you understand
these people need a helping hand
or they'll grow to hate America someday
Take a look at who they are
can't you see they've traveled far?
Do we simply turn our backs
and send them on their way.
Well, the world turns
And Latino families with little food or clothes
are stopped at the border, where the hot wind blows
In Mexico
(In Mexico)
And their anger burns
So they start to climb the fence at night
they learn how to sneak
and they learn how to fight
In Mexico
(In Mexico)
Then one night, in desperation
they pay coyotes to smuggle them away
hiding in the trunk of a car
afraid of being caught crossing the Rio Grande
by an ice patrolman with a gun in his hand
But they don't get far
And the family cries
In Mexico
(In Mexico)
And as their dream dies
(In Mexico)
Camped along America's southern border
another poor family seeks law and order
In Mexico
(In Mexico)
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