Born and raised most of my childhood in the Mexican border town of Matamoros, Tamaulipas. Have been writing poetry most of my life for some still-undiscovered reason.
Third time posting. Picked 2 of the ones I'd like to think as favorites. At least, they were chosen by the freelance editor I hired to help me pick which poems I should be submitting to publications. I never did... I procrastinate when it comes to things I want. I would really like to see one or some in print somewhere that would merit pride. The truth of the matter is that I like them. But can't imagine why anyone else would. I mean, what ARE they anyway? A woman walking around with a severed head, partying like it is 1799 while her sickly children wait alone at home; The other poem imagines a man imagining himself to be an explorer and buffalo hunter in order to cope with whatever befell him. They can be grotesque, unsavory, but, I dunno. I like them. They are different. They are what happens when I really reach out desperate, grasp for inspiration.
