Edna St. Vincent Chamaco

All he could see from where he stood
was three long mountains and the hood.

He turned and looked the other way,
he saw three vatos who were bueys.

And with his eyes he traced a line
from barrio poems maligned.

The buildings were dilapidated
so was the girl he loved so long ago.

La Raza was so razafied
especially east of town.

All he could see from where he stood
was three letters of the Hollywood sign.

Sometimes he caught bullets with his teeth,
sometimes he outran them with his feet.

Rock, Paper, Chamaco

Not a voice to be had
among the poets.

Chamaco being faster
than fast.

Snow solid metal
in Aztlan.

Sunlight raped
by starry sunlight.

A bull
become itself.

La Raza
kept falling and falling.

Rock, paper, Chamaco.
The playground swallowed seas.

Chamaco Guadalupe

Chamaco appeared to Juan Diego
and Juan ran home

to spill the beans
and before you know it

Chamaco is the patron saint
of Mexico

and the drug trade flourishes
the kidnappings become a way of life

safety in numbers
disappears

altars are erected for Chamaco
all over the land

and even the belly of the United States
is blessed with the bad

Indio

Chamaco was not burdened
with his Indian past

the land was lost
and that was that

his language
now goobledygoop

his whole body
a wounded knee

his few victories
not worth the war paint

the scalps
better left unsaid

he's feeling lighter and lighter
like a hawk's tail feathers

Chicano Snowflakes

Chamaco invented snowflakes
once too often

buried campesinos chest deep
in Michigan

in the valley of Texas
carrot pickers froze

icicles forming
on their privates

snowmen
no comfort to the children

a frosty huelga
proved pointless

Chamaco's infamy
ill-gained

The Garden Of Even

Chamaco relished
the apple-shaped woman

run of out paradise
by snakes

despised the desert
too much sand

equally
too much sun

Eve became
more and more bitchy

the tree of knowledge
shaking its head

nobody likes
a smartass tree

yelled Eve
while Chamaco

never sweated
the small stuff enough