Amor

Amor

Roma

         Mora

                 Ramo

te extiendo un ramo

de olivo

para tu piel

para lubricar nuestras

relaciones que parecen

haberse secado

te extiendo un poco de alivio

ablandándome a tus modos-

rodilla, tobillo

dedo gordo hinchados

inflamados dilo como digas

pero hay fuego. Hay fuego dentro

de mi.

Es mentira que el ardor

todo desmorona

mis nervios son columnas

Roma

rondando dándole muchas

vueltas a esto

debo caerle como

zopilote consumir de tu cuerpo

atracarme de ti

quedar pesada, inflamada

contigo. Pero siento miedo

y me vomito

ayi esta el rechazo

te quedas mirando mi embarro

y me echo a volar.

Amor del bueno

amor del Viejo

como Roma

puro como la blancura

de las estatuas que cubren la ciudad

grandezco e histórico.

así me la imagino.

Amor

tu eres  del bueno

me haces suspirar

palpitar purpura

como la mora

que es mi corazón

convirtiéndose

un

caleidoscopio

de emociones

me llevas contigo

a las orillas

y de repente me jalas

pal centro.

Soy una iris midiendo

la luz ala que me expongo

abrí los ojos, ya veo.

Te veo

Amor

Amor del bueno

amor del Viejo

Amor mío.

So so so so so so Special

Hang ups got nothing uplifting to them

always make me crash. Spirit bent

like an accordion my voice all muffled

gets louder in my head

emotions choke me, my throat an old  muffler that got

miles of stories to run. 

I ruminate on a time we had

one moment that gets me all stuck

like my 12 times tables. Xs flying at me

like an ex’s under-the-table-come-ons. 

Come on! Come on!

Let’s move on the present is not talking

about the future nor the past. Come on! Come on!

I need a bump- bump the needle off

my thoughts on-loop. Admire them

like vinyl on the wall of a greasy hipster joint.

Hang-ups. They slow me down

actively, shut down my imagination.

It’s supposed to be a teenage thing but

hey I still get pimples so why do I think

insecurities clear up with degrees.

You’d think I’d know better. My recall

is terrible, only bring to mind the times

I failed…failed myself.

Need to hear from others the times

that I succeeded. Even then I don’t believe

just feel like a generation X-er demanding

my trophy for showing up.

We all want to be something in this world

there is power in numbers but when I say things

like that it’s just skirting the issue

at least I ain’t lying

coming straight as an A-line

My mouth is scared from secrecy

a scab flaps loosely

loosened by my slip ups.

My tiny jerky

my piece of me rotting from the inside

from not pressing my feelings

my heart, my pelvis on to you.

Punishment for not nourishing on your lips

that I forget how perfect they are until I cant

press up on them. Humming bird lips,

vibrate perfectly

causing a backwards reflection

to the first time I skinned those lips.

Our history.

I know I love you

cause I resisted pulling the skin off

my lip. I didn’t yank that crispy skin

with the tips of my index

finger and my thumb.

I resisted the pain

the pleasure of the sting

flooding my body as the blood

sprouts out my lip down my chin

warm trail. Resisted having

my lip swell from the immediate jolt

instant gratification rather be fully satiated

by the feel of your lips.

I let myself heal for you- my history.

Las beisbolitas (final)

So excited that my poem "las beisbolistas" will be featured in the book "Mexican American Baseball in Pomona Valley." Thank you Richard Santillan!

They played in fields

smaller than the men’s,

right before the men hit the lots.

These mujeres were no warm up acts!

Across the Southwest, las Tomboys, Aztecas,

Rock-etts y las Moreloettes,

traded their aprons for a chest protector

y un bat. Not torteando tortillas on Sunday,

punching their glove-pocket

ready for the heat of the grounder.

Las beisbolistas

took me down memory lane.

My little arm hooked around my Ama’s elbow

walking safely down the street.

Little arm that could throw a ball fast,

directly at a bully’s right calf.

“Don’t tell me girls can’t play ball!

Next one will be a homerun. I call right field.”

Mujeres beisbolistas?

They did it for the fun, the winning,

 the friendships and the aches.

Filled many fields with their dreams

with each round of the bases.

Las beisbolistas broke

racist, gendered barriers one crack

of the bat at a time to

play Béisbol the game they loved.

Compton Compilation

This here post goes out to my folks from the City of Compton. Just a few to show you Compton from my heart.


1. Compton
2.Gang Boys
3.Compton O.G.
4. The Parade
5. Home Run Blues

Amanda Woodward, My Shero (circa 1993)

Heather Locklear as Amanda from Melrose Place

Amanda Woodward, god she is such a witch! She looks like she is so hungry with power. No she can’t be hungry if she already has it, cause she does. The way she stands up to men more powerful than her at D & D Advertising, the way she dismisses compliments from others in a “yeah, I know I’m good and don’t need you to tell me,” kind of way. I don't want to be like her really but definitely wish I had alot of her qualities.  Let’s face it, it’s been pretty fucken hard for me to try to emulate her with my prieta, swap meet-clothes-wearing self. She is after all Heather Locklear.  And honestly I don’t want to be HER just be like the character she plays on Melrose Place. I’ve never been to Melrose, it’s pretty close by my classmates say but I don’t have a car and I don’t think my mom will let me get there on the bus. It seems like a nice fancy place to visit, with nice young rich 20-somethings.

Amanda Woodward, she is a crude vice-president of an advertising company, a callous slut who seems to have affairs with every male character on the show except for Matt the gay one of course. Oh and she has an amazing wardrobe that always accentuates her ass.  Not only does Amanda have her own apartment but she also owns the apartment complex where the Melrose drama takes place. Or is she just the manager? Heather Locklier has been on other television shows, I don't remember which ones but I do know the other characters she played on the many television sitcoms she was on except that her characters were always well off and a seductress.  Heather Locklear, with her trend setting fashion, high paying career and bed hopping abilities makes me thinks that having such independence would make anyone feel so powerful, that’s why she is so tough, cause she does what she wants. I have never experienced that kind of independence but also I’ve never been told that I could one day live like that, but I wish to.  I don’t mean just the clothes, money and men but, she represents the opposite of everything, that at my mature age of sixteen years old, I am already angered and bored with such as religion, marriage, children…in a word housewife. Amanda doesn’t have to worry over making sacrifices for her family, her husband or her children and from all her romantic quests I could tell that virginity or devotion are not nooses around her neck.  Unlike all my relatives, Amanda/Heather is not trapped into relationships by mixed emotions or neglected vows.  After her roll around with the guys she doesn't worry about the whispers behind her back or have fear chill her blood at the thought of what her mother might say when if she found out she had gone to see a gynecologist (yes my mom freaked out once when I went to the gyno).  Amanda’s women’s parts are her own and she could pamper it as much as she likes, adorn it with the softest fabrics, give it up without any commitments and care for it as it needed to be.  That is what I want.  Sounds simplistic and shallow but I want to be able to have a relationship and not have my friends tell me that whomever I slept with was supposed to be my man because we had to share had to be something special. I want to be a successful career woman, wear nice skirts, be flawlewss and strong. I want to be able to have my own apartment, something overlooking downtown all the lights and freeways a canvas to my romantic escapades.

I’m Not Used Goods (circa 1994)

Dear Friend,

It finally happened. I did IT.  I ditched school on Monday and took the bus to Ignacio’s house.  He’s been talking about it for a while but I’ve been too scared, I’m not the kind of girl that skips school. But this year is almost over, high school is almost over and we have gotten closer. On Sunday night we had such a great talk on the phone.  We shared our feelings for each other. Believe it or not I even told him that I loved him. I know, I don’t believe it either that I let my guard down like that. It wasn't my hormones speaking either, it was his words and the way he spoke about me and how he felt about me that made me do it. 

When I got to his house he looked nervous because his mom had come back to the house, she forgot her wallet! So he had to hide in his closet so she wouldn’t see that he skipped school.  He showed me around his house, then took me to his room.  We read together for a while, he had some poems he wanted me to see then he showed me the letters he kept that I wrote to him like 2 years ago. We listened to Juan Gabriel and La Sonora Dinamita as we talked and kissed a lot. It was GREAT! It got very very heavy and we ended up having coitus. It was my first time. Yes Dear Friend, I lost my virginity. It was…painful, I had not idea it would hurt but it also felt very pleasurable. The truth is I don’t know how I should feel now that all of this happened. I even told my friends about it. I don’t know if I should feel bad, good or sorry for losing my virginity. Part of me does feel pleased/relieved. I did start thinking about my future for a bit though, I could hear my mom’s voice in my head telling me I was now used goods, “no man is going to want a girl who doesn’t respect herself”.  What if she is right, what if no guy wants me cause I’m not a virgin? As I sit here writing to you, back aching and still sore between my legs from our 3 hour love fest all I can do it live with it.