Chicano Poet

Tuesday, November 21, 2017

Moat

Love the size of a castle moat
I spit in my hand
somebody's eye has fallen

she's wearing nothing to bed
pretending to be hungry and iced
a bird in sludge
grabs a pipe like this

my granddaughter on her first period
proud as a big palooka
I could be driving my truck
I could be soldiers
in a far away war

instead I crawl on my belly
inside a word
whose roof and walls
pin my ass to guilt

Friday, November 10, 2017

Dump Truck

Mad at your house
there on Hidalgo Street
but we were just a ball of fire
in your mother's geraniums

making love in the arroyo
did not satisfy our desires

the cops were looking
in the wrong place
we could hear them

my penis was a dump truck
oh to be a teenager again

Thursday, November 09, 2017

Toni

The giant ants have drifted
into Seguin like a blue norther
and I remember sliding my finger
in  the crotch of Toni's panties
what was she?  maybe sixteen
maybe in between
I was lean

and what of the giant ants
which were looking for some sugar
like I was so long ago
they dug up Juan Seguin's grave
called him babe
made him a slave

I gotta cave
oh Toni

Thursday, October 05, 2017

Barrio Blues

One morning Sobaco's balls sagged
like American democracy
the Bill of Rights stirred itself in semen
the Statue of Liberty
breathed a sigh of relief
before it went back to sucking on Sobaco's soul
you see America ain't that bad at all
there's still a slight hope
inside those purple mountain majesties
well maybe not on the Westside
but elsewhere yes elsewhere
Sobaco wakes up from the American Dream
the barrio is so real it hurts
the barrio pokes a finger in Sobaco's face
the barrio spits on Sobaco
Sobaco smiles and cries
" Oh, my lovely barrio,
how can I live without you?"




Sunday, September 24, 2017

Purple Submarin

In the town where Sobaco was born
lived cabrones who sailed to sea
and they told him of the mar
and how they sailed Aztlan in submarines

we all live in purple submarines
purple submarin, purple submarin
we all live in purple submarines
in morado submarines

so we sailed to the top
of the pyramid of the sun
it was underwater green
and the Spaniards were on the run

we all live in purple submarines
purple submarin, purple submarin,
we all live in purple submarines
in morado submarines

all our camaradas live on board
Sobaco dreamed the purple dreams
we all live in purple submarines
in morado submarines

Tuesday, September 12, 2017

Sir Mex A Lot

Oh, my God Becky, look at his butt
it is So Big, it looks 
like a black girl's butt
I mean his butt is just so big
I can't believe it's so round and flabby
I mean it's gross
look he's just so goddamn brown
Sobaco never heard them talkin
Sobaco just kept on walkin
his buttcrack all sweaty
listening to Black Betty
going to the tienda
he was a big spenda
girl if you think his butt is big
you oughta see his belly
peanut butter and jelly
Oh, my God Becky, look at his butt
it is So Big, it looks
like a black girl's butt

Sunday, September 03, 2017

Elegy Seen In A Broken Convex Mirror

The poet John Ashbery
after writing nondescript
characterless bland
black and white poems
akin to the scripts
for the Jerry Seinfelf sitcom
has died an exciting
and wonderful death
right before our very eyes
thank you John
for making my day
which had been so boring
until I heard the news
of your spectacular death
rest in poetry old guy
and again thank you
for brightening my day
before I go back to
writing terrible
and forgettable verse