classic

Finished reading Y no se lo tragó la Tierraby Tomas Rivera, and without attempting to sound articulate, I think I have found one of my favorite novels. I'm sure it's many other's favorite, but the language is beautiful, and the pieces are skimp glimpses of migrants. By the time I was born my family stopped migrating. But once in a while, and often in short warnings, I heard about my parents past as migrants. My sister being born in Des Moines, the long hauls in trucks with aunts and uncles. These stories relived something I had not known before, but felt in tune with. So now i'll be keeping my eye out for more of his work.
Every time I talk to friends I realize how behind my reading is, but I try to make up for it by having other experiences (traveling, editing,etc). Must write a poem for class soon. Two weeks passes by quickly. I think I should sleep on it and perhaps I will dream Villanelles. The other assignment, a pastoral, is already forming in me, but I don't know what I am trying to say. Initial thoughts:

If you cut
south texas
huisache,
a tar
covered stump
eliminates
buried,cut
and chopped ancestors
from coming back
to life as
hungry offshoots.