30

is the new 20 I hope. lol. I took the day off from work, so I read a bit of Barrio Boy by Ernesto Galarza in the morning, then played some w/ Sprocket. Now it's a bit after 12, and I am working on some poems due for class portfolio, Halloween in the background, and Sprocket sleeping next to me.

No poem yet for this occasion.

They call it puppy love

and I think it's true.

Her name is Sprocket. Don't ask
my why that's her name, but it's
partly because it sounded (or is)
German, and it goes with her
"heritage" as a mini-schnauzer.

I bought her on Saturday at
the pulga, and I just hope nothing
comes out wrong. Papers say
she was born on March 3rd.

*She is available for play dates*








on a ending note: i'm tired. i want the semester to be over.
my brother came down to visit from Houston and it
was difficult juggling family and school work. What
keeps me going is thinking "summer"

1. fun
2. no classes
3. road trip
4. time for thesis
5. oh yeah, and work.

*by the way, i don't know why i put numbered bullets on the above list and they come out like flowers...not my intent, just fyi. lol

Maybe

it's late. but i took a 2 hour nap, which means i'm older now...lol, and that i likely won't be falling asleep until 3am. My brother is on his way from Houston so I am waiting to see if he will stop by and stay at my house. It was unexpected, i just found out from him today.

Este poema es para ti.

I remembered today

about the SBS building

ese minuto entre

the COAS

preocupada

de las pulgadas

between our hands

haveces unos besos
sin razon

sometimes vergüenza
entre los students

tus palabras
entre mi lengua

tu coraje
uno de muchos años

this minute
between lunch

this segundo
este año
esos dias

everything right now
todo-todo-todo

los pensamientos cargan
la misma soledad

el mismo querer

ekphrasis

sandia

I ate
blood red
squares,
setting off
diluted juice
paths above
my veins.

green
streaks
and red
scars
give action
to watermelon
still life.

Commentary more than poetry...

This is my poem/response to the news article i mentioned in previous post, titled "US citizens locked up as illegal immigrants"
I think towards the end I mix some words up (or at least my understanding of them), but as always, there is work to be done

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The answer to stabilizing the American Economy
is to deport all the illegal immigrants. We begin
with some work raids. Because only illegal immigrants
run and everybody who stays should have their
papers with them. Then we can stop them for
suspicious reasons and ask them about their citizenship.

Operation Wetback intended to gather up illegal residents
and return them to Mexico.

Operation Return To Sender intends to gather up illegal residents
and return them to Mexico.

Inevitably some mistakes will be made.
Mistakes that will cost you a couple days
or years, but with proper proof can be
corrected. These are regretful mistakes
because they were not intended
the feelings of hostility,
being handcuffed to a chair
sense that you don’t belong here
that you must speak proficient English
that you are an American citizen.

Yesterday was Easter

and I wanted to write, but I was too tired. A lot of good family time. Ended the night watching a movie w/ my lil sis and her kids. Then some cleaning afterward. While I was reading the e-news that night I came across an article regarding American citizens who are confused for illegal citizens and deported. I wrote a poem, which is on the laptop, but will be posting when I get home. Here is the article for starters: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090413/ap_on_re_us/mistaken_for_illegal_i

Just one picture from Easter 2009. Hope it went well and it was joyful. It can be tiring to have so much family around.

ACL

Like the concert festival, not the ligament. I bought my tickets a few days ago. It's going to take place Oct. 2-4. If you want to know the details, you can follow this site: http://www.aclfestival.com/


I'm excited, yes. About six months to get there, but I'm hoping I have a good time. It's going to be in Austin so I will even get to visit my soon to be Freshman brother at UTSA. I didn't even realize it until i was texting him today. That makes me even more excited, that I can stop by and say hello, see how things are, make sure he is studying. lol I see a lot of freshman students, and their first semester is overwhelming. I try to think of "good" reasons why, but usually its that they don't anticipate the level of work required to be successful at the University level. But I don't want to go into the subject of retention and first semesters.


I don't know the lineup yet for ACL, although there are rumors flying around. Just saw that the opening bands will be listed April 28th: excited. I was supposed to go last year, but money was tight. So I didn't do much all year as far as traveling...and I love traveling. It's not escaping. Escaping almost means not wanting to come back. I love to come back. I love to live here in the Rio Grande Valley. Traveling is about listening to people's stories, and catching a city change. New Orleans was like that, although still sad to see people struggling.


I used to write poems a lot while traveling because I was young and couldn't drive, so the option was going on bus or someone else driving. I don't get to write while traveling anymore, only at my destination. I do miss that. Would I go on the bus again? I have thought about it, but I dislike the lack of mobility. Maybe to try it again, but I have given up on trying to regain the experience of a first time. I didn't walk Bourbon street at night too much because the drinking and debauchery wasn't enticing.


I have never experienced ACL. I have experienced Austin, and unfortunately one of my characteristics is to be content with repetition and dwell in the known. This will be a change, and I will try to not visit the same places I always do in Austin. Essentially, I will attempt to give up control.

Language

I'm excited about it. The presentation coming up for class was a good choice. The unknown usually is. I'm not going to bother explaining language poetry here, but some of the ideas I can't help but laugh at (aka with). They are ideas I have been wanting to include in my own projects, before actually reading them in Ron Silliman's "In the American Tree". They include:

a one-shot publication: I love the idea of it. It's pretty much a chapbook, but when combined with a periodic publication it has the opportunity to serve different subjects, and cleaning the slate, going into different ideas without to much regard of the previous issue. So, it's not like a newspaper which will continue with a story for a few issues, and it's probably not even like a magazine and its editors whom constantly push their ideas/beliefs through a publication.

list: for the presentation I wanted to make a long, senseless list of poets associated w/ language poetry, and i laughed when on the next page I found exactly that. It's a simple coincidence, but I like it. It's almost like validation, knowing that some ideas have already been used effectively.

But then this gets me thinking. What else can we (poets and writers) do to further the medium? Where do we go from here, or where do I go from here with my "Chicano" poetry? I suppose that's one challenge of writing my thesis. To not recreate poems by other Chicano's. But I always want to do more. I don't want my poems to sound the same, use the same words, I need for them to be distinct. The ideas of Language poetry may help with this: go beyond reference.

And chances are, two months from now I will find a Chicano poet inspired by the Language poets. And I'll have to laugh.

Like sugar

words sweeten
a desire
to write

entonces

échame otra copa
de tu azúcar

para decir
la verdad

[nomas]

Last Night

I woke up to an unknown lover. I don't remember if it was from drunkenness or desire, but I was there. In bed. In my old home, the old master bedroom. A couple walks in to say hello. The man familiar, the woman naked, not familiar. They say hello, and another man walks into the doorway. They chit-chat, leave. I feel guilt for my betrayal. I also feel relief. The next scene I am at a couch watching television. The unknown lover to my left, a male friend, J, to the right. My friend asks "who is she". "I'd rather not talk about it". He tells me "you're using your loud voice, you have to whisper". I ignore him, and turn to the unknown lover. Still guilt, but more comfort. The unknown lover, as I try to distance myself, invites comfort. Another male friend, B, walks in. My right eye catches two friends in a passionate kiss. Lips feeding off each other, hands grasping. They weren't lovers before today. But they share a passionate kiss, and B tells J, on his knees, then in a prayer position: laying flat on the floor, face up, palms up. B says "I will be good to you, I need you". I know he would. B is completely dedicated to his lovers, and J likes to take advantage of them. A perfect couple: submissive and dominant. Last scene. The unknown lover is elsewhere. I'm sitting with my mate, she's reading the paper, speaking with someone also reading. They talk about betrayal and forgiveness in metaphors. My mate tells the other man, with slow deliberate words, "do you think frog will forgive the scorpion?" I leave quickly to some cafe upstairs. I know what this dream is about. I gave up a bastard son for my mate. I cry in my dream, sitting there, mr. carro keeping me company and ordering crepes. I just sit there crying, wondering what it will take for me to forgive.

[thank you for reading this non-sense]
[i was thinking prose poem-too cryptic:pointless]