Chicano Poet

Friday, January 30, 2009

Mi Hermano Esteban


Mommi, you are choking me,
I told her as I emerged from the sea.

The fishes schooled me
with wooden clubs of air.

A sea turtle exited its shell
to prove God knows not what.

A whale will only spout
the party line.

I don’t know if it was
the Panama Canal.

In fact, it was me choking her
not the other way around.

Thursday, January 29, 2009


The Mexican always flees like a spider,
punishment from blood to blood:

That time you held a knife as hostage,
the police took it so seriously,

the goons placed a narrow God,
dented from the waist down,

to defecate kisses
on your friend Maria’s tresses.

Children were sent to pick up the sea,
sharks falling to the ground in squares.

A gentle cloak on the moon,
beauty itself stuffed into a stick.

The spider and its web
invented the wheel for man.

Our love gone bad,
the metal shavings at our feet.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Lumbresita Mejicana

Of course you knew you were playing
with fire.

In the heat of the moment,
the nearby baseball stadium shed its metal,

the bridge busted out laughing
at either end.

Blackened, you swore you were purple.
The sky planted its foot on faith,

the smoke retreated with its tongue.
Meanings once meant so much to you,

your wooden sister held like a marshmallow
while I made love to her.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Missing You

You kissed me with lipstick and arrows,
lit snow glowing long ago.

The frozen river so appealing
to the wild night and dawn.

I remember delight,
the dust inside of it.

I remember bitterness
flying inside of a trembling fly.

Layers and layers of thoughts of you
make up the geology.

Monday, January 26, 2009

What It Is To Be Waiting For Your Lover

In my country, I always turn off the water,
the water being William Carlos Williams.

So fluent in Spanish, even God
and bullfighters understood him.

The gulls, already dressed in death ,
yet prayed to live.

Sure, the pipes break in winter,
cut in half by the smallest snowflake.

Have I explained this well enough?
Your copper vagina must be polished now.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Alexander Graham Belle

I’m getting sick and tired
of answering the lobster phone,

and having the damn crustacean
pinch the hell out of my ear,

said Mrs. Dali in such
an unlady like language to her husband

whose obsession with surrealism
had begun to take its toll---

and to think this was before the cell phone
became so common an appliance.


[Sorry, but the actual metallic parts
for this poem did not arrive on time.]


One of the benefits of turning sixty-one:
My eighteen-year-old girlfriend and I were at
the Starbucks inside of Barnes & Nobles.
When Ruby went off to the poetry section,
the soda jerk came up to me and said,
“Wow, you have a beautiful granddaughter!”
I did not gross him out with the truth.


The fire engine shrieked down Mainstreet.
It was on fire. Is this where I’m supposed
to use the word bucolic?


The Lone Ranger.




Wherein I first made use
of a hyperlink as an integral
part of a poem.



Friday, January 23, 2009

Pollock Woman

By the end of her life, she was making love to chairs,
she wore rooftop dresses.

She bought hair from strangers,
and ate lids of Tupperware.

In her youth she was a beauty,
but at fourteen she missed her period,

she called it a bloodless coup,
nobody overthrown but her.

Now her shadow has disowned her,
horrible syllables falter and fail,

she prays to the Virgin Mary with an axe,
yet the bruises on her back are sweet---

they dangle like broken branches
after the vicious, dreamy boy who raped her. it just me or does John Latta
write a ponderous English?

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

It Happened At Jebaliya

They pulled a woman in a blue robe
and a child’s leg from the rubble,

the sun was high in the sky
like a careless God,

on a hilltop, half a mile away,
Israeli tanks waited like vultures.

They pulled the rest of the child’s limbs
and torso from underneath charred beams,

when they found her head, eyes wide open,
they tried to close them,

as if they were trying to spare her the truth
before they placed her remains on the donkey cart.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Ironic and eery how Dubya's so-called Presidency(with a hee-hee there
and a hee-hee here),started out with planes crashing in New York City,
killing 2000,and now Obama starts his Presidency with a plane crashing
in New York City,and 150 survivors.Let's hope it's a good omen.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Take A Walk Through Gaza
Warning: Very Graphic

War And Peace

In the rubble of an apartment building
only the faces of a mother and child are visible,

they appear peaceful despite
being crushed by bricks and beams,

rescuers stand and stare,
for a moment there is no anger,

no effort is made to remove the debris,
no muscle moves or even twitches,

it’s as if reality refuses to become reality,
but soon the reprieve is over,

the cries, the sirens, the threats, the fists,
the frustration rushes to the surface,

and hangs there in the air
reminding us that an eye for an eye,

and a tooth for a tooth
is usually demanded from the innocent.

Friday, January 16, 2009

According to World Health Organization (WHO) figures,
more than 300 children have been killed and around
1400 injured in the current conflict.
They include two-year-old Samer Abdrabo -
she is said to have been shot in the back
by an Israeli soldier.
Her spinal chord has been severed
and she will probably never walk again.
"I was hit by a bullet," Samer tells me,
clutching her teddy bear.
"The Israeli soldiers shot me while
I was on the steps with my little sister."

Full story at the BBC.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Pest Control

Rats escape the fallen building,
not so a family of six

whose terror at the bombings
is finally over,

they do not smell the white phosphorus
of the illegal bombs,

they do not hear the sirens,
the rushing voices,

they do not feel the chunks of wall
being lifted off of them,

and by now the rats have found another home,
shaking and cursing the kosher exterminator.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

The Gravedigger

Salman Oman, the gravedigger said,
“Gaza is a graveyard...” as he shoveled dirt

in Sheik Radwan Cemetery,
a cigarette dangling from his dusty lips.

They bury sons in the graves
of long dead family members.

We’re running out of dirt he says,
it belongs to them now---

he points to Israeli jets
flying overhead.

Three young cousins are lowered
into the graves of a dead aunt.

She was buried there ten years ago today.
It’s a shame, he continues,

there’s plenty of room at Martyrs Cemetery,
but the Israeli shelling and troops

make it safe only for the dead,
and maybe not even they are safe.

The smell of death is in the air
as he lights another darkening cigarette.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Olmert on how he made the President of the
United States change his U.N. vote.

"In the night between Thursday and Friday,
when the secretary of state wanted to lead
the vote on a ceasefire at the Security Council,
we did not want her to vote in favour," Olmert said.

"I said 'get me President Bush on the phone'.
They said he was in the middle of giving a speech in
Philadelphia. I said I didn't care. 'I need to talk
to him now'.He got off the podium and spoke to me.

"I told him the United States could not vote in favour.
It cannot vote in favour of such a resolution.
He immediately called the secretary of state and
told her not to vote in favour."

read the rest of the story here.

Invasion Of The Body Snatchers

An Israeli tank fires on an ambulance
showering the driver with glass,

jewels which sparkle in the sun
and captivate the soldiers.

Shawki Saleh, who volunteers as a medic
at Kamal Adwar Hospital,

says that by the time he gets to some corpses,
dogs and rats have feasted upon them.

Mosques and schools are targeted
because Hamas is using civilians as human shields

says the Israeli Foreign Minster on FOX News,
while on another channel,

Ahmed Abu Sal says he found a confused
nine-year-old girl clutching her dead mother.

The mother appeared to have been dead three days,
eyes open, yet able to see more than we can see, he said.

Friday, January 09, 2009

The Truck Driver

During the generous three hour truce,
he drove the U. N. truck

full of medical supplies,
he wasn’t nervous at all,

thought mundane thoughts,
the scent of a woman,

the shape of the sky
against rocky, round, invaded hills,

suddenly two tank shells
ended his life---

apparently the Israelis
are quite anal about what you should think.

Thursday, January 08, 2009

Mixed Metaphors

I’m getting sick and tired of hearing about
missing co-eds found slain,

their Hello Kitty panties
celebrating that dark day when the Japanese

raped Pearl by the hair of their chinny chin chins.
The tall detective’s keen eye spots a blade of grass

which doesn’t belong to Walter Whitman.
A pebble nearby senses the detective’s

sick interest in the girl’s decaying body.
The sun keeps on pouring sunlight

on the girl’s bruised face and thighs
as the enemy planes head back to the carrier.

Wednesday, January 07, 2009


A father carries his seven-year-old son
to the hospital twenty blocks away,

the boy’s limbs and head hang limp,
the family thought they would be safe

in the UN school.
When he arrives at the hospital

they tell the father,
there is nothing we can do for the dead,

he hugs his son,
he curses, he cries, he prays,

but his God is no match
for the Israelis.

Tuesday, January 06, 2009

Stone Temple Pilot

As the building collapsed
the two-year-old child

did not feel the wall
lying on top of him,

he did not hear
his own little bones breaking,

he did not see the dust settle
around him,

he did not feel his own blood
soaking him,

he did not hear
the frantic screams of his mother,

he did not see
the desperate hands of his father digging,

he did not hear
the Israeli pilot’s proud voice

as he told the command center,
target destroyed, returning to base.

Monday, January 05, 2009

The Wild,Wild West

The tanks are rolling into Palestine,

The Palestinians are being herded like cattle,

Git 'em up,git 'em up,git 'em up-----
Round 'em up,round 'em up,round 'em up-----

The tanks are rolling into Palestine,

The rocks are flying at the tanks,
flying,flying-----shattering against the tanks.

The tanks are rolling into Palestine.
The wild,wild west,the wild,wild west.

Friday, January 02, 2009


The poor man says he’s afraid
to go out and buy bread.

He’s afraid he’ll get caught in the bombings,
he’s out of fuel for his stove,

His children are scared,
his wife worries about them.

The blitzkrieg continues, the panzer divisions
advance, the storm troopers march.

The wondrous eyes of the children
elicit no response from the invaders.