Claudia Rodriguez

Y volver volver VOLVER con la opresión otra vez. Llegare hasta donde estés yo se perder, yo se perder pero jamás me venceré. History repeats itself spins like a 45 but then there’s the scratching a needle trying to stop time. I keep coming back to the same place- like literally. Like a poem about writing- writing itself. I teach at Cal State Dominguez Hills Toro Pride Tuesdays burgundy and gold horned students, learners and spiel-lers of knowledge, ideas bouncing off those 70s concrete walls, between the Japanese gardens bonsai trees growing little and back to CAMS, the high school I went to when I was just a little 9 th grade girl from Compton, which started to feel little for me so I knew I had to go. Looking for an alternative and CAMS high landed on my map- my route on this road less taken but now I’ve started a path. CAMS is on the campus of Dominguez Hills and back in 1990 I never fathomed that in 201

Xipe Totec Aztec god associate with rejuvenation and Spring time Note: First read part 1  http://rodriguezwriter.blogspot.com/2016/08/an-altar-size-of-chichen-itza.html Anastasio couldn’t believe he did it in 2 weeks, he got all his shit out of that place in just 2 weeks. Not sure how many trips, at all times of the day back and forth between East Los Angeles and Korea town he made but he did it. 2 weeks before his lease ended too. He knew he was lucky, very lucky; things could be worse. He wasn’t crashing on someone’s couch or worse back at this mom’s place. Stop, don’t go there. It’s not like that at all. Anastasio loved his mamacita to death, she was his “homegirl” he’d tell all his friends. But his mamacita lived in a one-bedroom apartment that was already way too “cozy” cause his homegirl was a bit on the pack-ratty side. Plus he knew he couldn’t fully mourn with his mom around, he couldn’t get all loca descontrolada and go on benders that ended with some hot tail in his