Chicano Poet

Wednesday, February 18, 2009


The Muses looked down at me from above
like cloudy Greek gods.

I’ve sacrificed these words for you,
your words actually,

since I do not deem mine worthy,
used only on occasion,

used only in emergencies,
so unlike your language

which engulfs with nectar
and will attract bees

I fight off like Heracles in old age,
having put down the club to smite,

having to rely on words now,
your words on this voyage---

the stone anchor visible
against stones on the bottom.


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