…and from that twelve year old
hesitant poet, sprang an ornery,
stuttering poet…apparently…

The Right Of Relic

He stared at Mexico. Mexico stared right back.
Perhaps it was a macho thing.

But him, he never claimed any of its history.
It was others---the ones with one-track minds.

As a matter of fact, he claimed no heritage.
Which earned him scorn.

He was no lowly Indian, or Aztec priest.
He was proud of having no roots.

Even now, that he’s proven his point,
there are those who would belittle him.

Be careful what you look for in the smoking mirror,
least you rely upon the frame, carnal.