We are all picassos

We are all Picassos.

Todas y todos somos picassos.

My DNA is digital

my besos are analogue

I spin through space

two eyes here

two mouths there

the mother displaced, distorted, missing in Michigan 

the father invisible, drowned,

dismembered on the canvas of fertile grandmothers

I arrived piece by piece across the migrant spectrum of soul

I will be buried and the earth will be whole again and again

My fate is twisted, a twister, a storm of tenderness

My days are here with you

My nights become DNA,

I spin and float reassemble

myself in your bodies

I ghost other worlds

parallel soul parking

fitting carefully between two bodies

My love is DNA

my hate is analogue

Borderless not wireless

My head leans against the head of Coatlicue

My ears are pounded by the drumming

of wars plummeting through my skin

We are all artists

our tongues the brush

our veins the palette of colors

the rio bravo pleading to jump tracks

and wash herself of the maquiladora blood

Picasso made flesh offerings for our eyes to see

Guadalupe buried our placenta in her cries

Today is the day I will eat prickly pears with lemon and chile

smile against the sun

know that everything and everyone I love

will burst from my pores and my senses will make clouds

free the rain from the prison of pipes, asphalt and dams

Two or three more world wars

Ten, twenty, thirty revolutions

Where we disarm the men with guns and pigmentation

we'll get it right

we'll figure out how to be together

dance and not damn ourselves together

Wind 

Water

Land 

Our bodies return whole to the spiderweb,

gently feed the cosmos...

Si Rafael Alberti hubiera sido campesino...

Si Rafael Alberti hubiera sido campesino

Yo soy campesino

marinero en la tierra,
migrante de las olas y las ondas semilleras,
navegante sin papeles y fronteras

Refugiado en los zurcos de nuestra América
poesía de pala, azadón y tractores
marinero en las labores de la verdura y la ternura...

human status for all | viva la tierra/earth lives

human status for all:
birds,
oceans,
mountains,
uranium,
rivers,
deserts,
jaguares,
bears,
fish,
whales,
worms,
wind,
soil,
waters,
migrants,
hummingbirds,
butterflies,
snakes,
insects,
bacteria,
germs,
shells,
mammals,
amphibians,
bipeds,
quadripeds,
all animals,
cold-blooded,
warm-blooded,
dust,
seeds,
pollen,
dogs,
wolves,
cats...

Animal status for all:
whites,
blacks,
browns,
yellows,
greens,
teas,
republicans,
democrats,
communists,
anarchists,
utopians,
men,
women,
children,
ancestors,
elders,
queers,
transspiriteds,
the blind,
the deaf,
the mute,
the undocumented,
homeless,
the rich,
the technocrats,
the evil bankers,
the neoliberalists,
the corporativists...


On earth day,
all power to the animal people,
the web of life,
the natural world without us...

*

Non-utopias | arnoldo garcía

The options
for
our journey
are narrowing/
capitalism
has
become
a super storm
a deep drought
an arctic quarry
an ocean drowning nations
a war of narco-utopians

Indians
have become
Indians
again
following the gravitational fields of their soul
alongside
ghost buffalo bringing back the humans
aztec dancers joining the swirling galaxies
disappeared women chanting away the desert graves
The transition has become forlorn
no socialist, communist, anarchist realm
awaits on the other side of the barricades or the borders
Your body
has become
the most feared weapon
the only organism capable of self-destruction
destroying the habitat of our ancestors' womb
or restoring our place in the geo-cosmic formation of planters | gatherers
The capitalist realm
The one percent of the one percent
The country of those
who take
the fat of the unborn
have broken the circle,
their circle with humanity
No space ship
No virtual reality
No acid trips
No latter day saints
can transport them out of this christian mess
They crucify the new Jesus on drones
They bomb the new Mohammed at weddings
They grovel at the lungs of our last new Buddhists breath
The holy story has never referred to us the immigrant-indian landless shadow
The holy story is emptiness, erasing our names with zeros, ones and police guns
Nobody understands that our story is in the soil
Nobody realizes that our voices roar, hum and weave the rivers and ocean waves
Nobody who is white or gullible of their shadows understands.
There is no industrial solution
There is no socialist revolution
There is no European pagan sun
Einstein's theorems
Marx's das kapital
My grandmother's plants and prayers
are no match for this problem born in 1492...

The revolution is to be human:
Leave the natural world alone
Turn off
Tune in
Go off-line?
Only the wind, the dust, the waters, the moon, the sun, our smiles are wireless
The rest is either a fiction or a faction of our imagination.
We fight for the right to be in our black and brown skins without fear
We fight for the right to live in community with the natural light
We fight for the right to sing our song in any key in any tone in any frequency
so that bees and butterflies are not molested
so that maize and pollen are free to make love with humans and insects
We have arrived
at the shores
of a broken world
beatened men
impaled women
unlucky new borns
who have inherited a war of worlds
payable through an electronic debit plan
You cannot download utopia or useless ancestors
Your laptop will never have enough memory to install the new old world...

what is lost | arnoldo garcía

I cannot take back
what I lost
what I lost
now belongs to another
If I take back
what I lost
I will have to take it away
from another I
I cannot take back
what I lost
what I lost
is only found in my memory
a body that needs another
to be found
to be whole
to be un-lost
without having to take back
from another
who is just
another I
Another I
who is lost
And cannot take me back
without taking away from me
what is lost...