Chicano Poet

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Abuela De Ocho

El ocho ate his beans
tall tortillas at the ready

he remembered his abuela
always telling him

never fight
harder than you have to

there's a limit
to what effort

there are roads
you do not need

bridges built
for no rime or reason

birds that
do not need to fly

but el ocho patas
spun his wheels

thinking that abuela
would not approve

Tuesday, September 09, 2014

The Young Ocho

She lived on the
ocho calles of Seguin

the lawless town
which floated above it

ringing its pan dulce
above her house

her skinny legs
filled with double

the police cars
wore a carnation

when Ocho
was popping fireworks

against the ancient sea
which still made its noise

along College Street
and flooded the library

where el ocho patas
had once flown on two fake feet

Friday, September 05, 2014

El Garracorazones

Like a garrapata
he clung to her

thinking that love
was the real thing

como una Cola
the buey

believed in the American way
and the American way

did not believe in him
so when el ocho patas

kicked your ass
you knew it

his ocho corazones
broken by his girl

he cried spider tears
in a dark closet

el mero mero
brown recluse

Thursday, September 04, 2014

Andaba A Gatas

El ocho patas
andaba a gatas

like a baby

was sometimes the shame
of his generation

he shat his pants
he puued his sentences

he might lose
a leg or two

he might not
jump as high

but you can see it
in his eyes

he might as well have
ocho ojos

for you
ocho pendejos

Wednesday, September 03, 2014

Un Trip Thru The Outlet Mall

in memory of the Licano poet Big Sal Gallinas

El ocho patas
went to the outlet mall

for a chava

the young girls in shorts
were flashing horts

there were too many
sunglasses for sale

the food court
didn't sell real tacos

the Indian fellow
was yellow

the custodian
was Bodian

el ocho patas
scattered everywhere

Monday, September 01, 2014

El Ocho Patas

If you must know
my mother was a spider

she dug up
tortillas in the backyard

my barrio was stolen
by a girl in trenzas

my cousin
took all the trees to town

the police arrested
the color brown

my mother
spun her web

her  Sunday sons

the wind would bring its knife
to shake us blue

the barrio got by
with what gente it could get its hands on

and if you must know
I spit like a spider with my feet

Friday, August 15, 2014

Starcke Park

How it was
that Starcke Park

played such a role
in the music of her panties

like the wild dam
after a flood

or the sunken picnic tables
gasping for crumbs

her hands in the pants
of two boys

that was the rumor
which was spread about her

the following Monday at school
why did weekends exists

she asked her mother
her mother didn't know

and the park
which defies time

still follows
one of the boys