Chicano Poet

Wednesday, October 26, 2016

Martin Street

Stray dog on Martin Street
eyes like a lost lover
the freeway humming like a bee
a cop strangles tacos

in days gone by
I ran up this street
my long hair stretching from Robert B. Green
the moon all sweaty in my hands
until I got to Cecilio's house

the San Antonio River made of newspaper
lies crumpled against a curb downtown
my tongue long as a sword

Friday, October 21, 2016

The Greasy Spoon

Back in the Fifties
a greasy burger joint
posted a sign saying
Mexicans served around the back
Negroes go on down the road
to Emma's Place
but at least they had the courtesy
to tell you where to go
and abuelo pulled the perro
out of the stationwagon
and let him do his business
right at the front door
to greet the gringo customers
my abuelo was such
a forgiving old man

Saturday, October 15, 2016


I'm done combing the Westside for ants
the dilapidated houses
refuse to suffer
old man Centeno's soul
cast aside like used gum
that won't stick to shoes

not even the ghost of ant mounds
spiral against dogs
who would know better
I'm done combing the Westside
for the sighs of ants
their little brown shoulders
I used to lean on

Friday, September 30, 2016

Young Barrio Girl Walking Alone On Zarzamora Street

Her breasts
like baby birds
in a nest

Thursday, September 15, 2016


I teach her how to play with my huevos
I show her how to scramble them
I suck her tongue out of her mind
the game of love and desayuno

the ins and outs of the night
I kiss her corazones over & over again
maybe I'm still a baby
maybe I still soil my diapers
after all I am only a man
I teach her how to play with my huevos

Saturday, September 03, 2016

The Hounds Of Heaven

The hounds of heaven turned out to be
just chupacabras
who sniffed me, circled me 
and then disappeared into the darkness
that in a word
is what is wrong with us Mexicans
even the shit we make up
wants nothing to do with us

Thursday, August 18, 2016


The six mojados at the Dollar General
were stocking up on the necessities
you need to survive in these
so-called United States of America
y muy pronto my amigos
tell met it's politically incorrect
to use the word mojado
but I tell them
well they were mojados
they'd just come in from the pouring rain
even that old white man
who just walked in
he's a goddamn mojado too