tiberiusprime

Cacuys In our living room

Black eyebrows savage unkempt
like giant weeds atop
deep black caves
worried sweating putrid
beads of poisonous dew
onto my sallow cheeks
Sintese aqui travieso!
and dont peek!
Or MiraCucuy!
Long sleepless nights stomach
Grumbling like construction trucks
In the morning while
choritzo grease wafts
across neighbors lawns
into my bedroom window I clutch
My aching belly at 6 am...
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Waves Rushing Over

Seven years old pressing skin on sand
Closed eyes soothed by godly sun
Digging in with palms and soles
Caressed by the tides motions
Every nerve on edge feeling
Each grain of sand massaging
My innocent body taught
Cool Pacific waves over rush
Then back again to frothy sea
Arms widespread flying
Giddy awaiting white-foamed salty surf
To come touch me once...
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In a Dark Bar in Fresno

I spy you sitting flirtatious at the bar alone
eyes dreaming beyond blue cocktailed
oceans floating in a cool tipsy state
skirt raised high releasing August fleshy
fumes wafting down to my lonely barstool
at the end where middle aged men sit
staring off into the past stroking chins
arriving at regrettable moments with each sip.
Two shots Tequila...
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I didnt know I was so Latino
Until walking the stone cold courts of Stanford
Brahman Lilly white faces that glare
Behind political pretensions
Aquamarine eyes burning holes into my skin
Like a child pressing harder and harder
On a light brown crayon building wax
Until beige becomes walnut
Over and over outside the lines
See what I made Daddy, a Mexican
Walnut becomes a...
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Black-as-coal arms outstretched
Like Moses in benediction over hopeful masses
Huddled.waiting.anticipating.
The dream!
Washington DC
August 28, 1963
King didnt have a dream
That one day the grandsons of the sons of slaves
walking in ignorance
In unison shuffling with gold chains swaying
Reflecting the emptiness of soul
To dead ancestors who dreamed for freedom
Heads bowed beneath crumbling buildings
While exhaust-painted pigeons shit
Onto...
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PAPA WAS A ROLLING STONE

"Papa was a rolling stone" echoed
across scuffed-marked wooden floors
covered with a thin layer of grease
from the thousands of fried tacos
"wherever he laid his hat was his home"
vibrating across cockroach wings under the fridge
eating frijoles and welfare cheese crumbs
over beer bottle lips
and 5 Latinas whose hips curved round
like the foothills between Sanger...
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My great grandparents emigrated from Mexico in 1914 in order to flee the violence of the Mexican Revolution and the banditry of Pancho Villa and his men. Evidentally, Pancho Villa would terrorize the village and ranch the my great grandparents were from. The point is that I was born in California, as were my parents, as well as my grandparents. Ever since I can remember...
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