Chicano Poet

Monday, May 14, 2012


My chin on your  shoulder blade,
I'm a pile-driver.

A child with Jello
pauses in mid-sentence in the other room again.

My mind rockets into yesterday.
In the calm that overwhelms,

I am a bastard.
Paper pours out of your smile,

my bandits caress your jeans.
You whip out a teddy bear snake,

have the dog fixed,
the cat de-meowed,

our love-life will not bear fruit,
you scream at the top of your lungs,

while molecules
bounce above the shallow rings.


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