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Paradigm Shift!

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Image Credit: Maga Lintzin It’s a new paradigm! Chicana and Chicano studies started it when they gave me the path to this expressive arts track and here I lay tracks as a means to keep track of my ideas emotions feelings self Chicana subjectivity cracked- decoded. I stand so firm in my Chicana standpoint that my hips are tight. Can’t be afraid of the future don’t shy away from the past that will get me there can’t lose sight of myself. I’m the mother of the Teortilla! Centeotl god of maíz listened to my payers blessing me with a cosecha to share this wicked wiki a paradigm shift. Just wrap your mind around it like a rubber band around your wrist you pull N snap it each bad thought you get, like “Ew, this is bad.” “Her shits not theory!” You deny me the connectivity of this literary device to lecture? Here I conjecture no longer looking at my fractured parts in the mirror Baby, Bhabha wishing, desiring to

My '92 (published in Foglifter Volume 2 Issue 2)

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April 29, 2017. Man, these winds! LA’s anxiety is effervescent. Must be the pangs of TWENTY- FIVE years ago today when South Central looked like the Olympic cauldron from above. Today is the anniversary of not waiting any longer. Their fury and pain passed on, one generation’s fire lit the next, grew tall like cypress trees stronger against the winds of neglect. Doesn’t feel good to be treated without dignity. To have it rubbed in your face that profits are at all costs; shitty schools, jerky roads, crowded health facilities and non-living-wage-jobs. Young men’s lives stuffed into small boxes with metal bars for profit. Or in mahogany coffins dropped six feet underground. Black and Brown boys Stowed away, your keeps sake. Urban communities pay for your profits even beaten out of us like the air that escaped our chests when the verdict was read. Doesn’t feel good to feel like you can’t breath. Concentra