Chicano Poet

Monday, June 21, 2004


All the instruments agree
it was a cold day in Enero
and the temperature was near cero.

The clouds came down
and produced a heavy nieve,
the kind that not even God can mueve.

The mountains froze and re-froze,
not even a snowmobile could caminar
against the fierce winds of the lugar.

I see your face,Cecilio,
battling against the odds that are igual
whether here on earth or in Nahuatl.

When you reach the top of the pyramid
make sure you send us one of your poemas
that explains away all of the problemas.


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