Rebellions | 7 mayo | may 7

it's right to rebel. -- mao

my eyes are rebelling
they're tired of seeing for me
they want to see for themselves
they want to see the sun, become the sun unblinding explosions
my eyes say let your brain see in the night without us
you'll appreciate your knees more as a penitent for light.
My ears are joining the rebellion, too.
they're tired of hearing the blues
they're tired of hearing your scratchy voice beat on my drums
they're tired of listening for the ecstasy of your shadow
so my ears just hiss and hiss
Singing a static song out of a B natural note
they scrape the note over and over until the their hissing drives me crazy
and all i can hear is what you said to me the other night
the hissing becomes a womb
gestating the noisiest web of musics, embraces, cries...
my eyes will impose their dictatorship of darkness
my ears their military junta of airlessness
my soul retreats to organize a guerrilla, a little war, in the mountains of my heart and lungs...

[Poema 24] Blues on the horizon & shells in my house

Before my last heartbeat
I want to accompany Billie Holiday
with my jarana and my soul
Find a corner in an alley
of a brick building
where her voice will echo
all the way to the Río Grande Valley
where her flower will never wilt.

Before my last breath
I want to place my mouth
over the Grand Canyon
howl at the cruel insistent winds
that have carved a gash on my lungs
where tourist take their photographs
leaving trash behind
pavement
drive-by shootings
and I to let the wind continue
with her inhumane operation
giving the earth open heart surgery

Before my love withers away
I will smooth your face
place my hands in the curvature of space
where her hips have carried humanity
since the day I was left alone
You will not cry again
except to gasp at what my body does to yours.

Before the last word is thought
I will forget everything I have done
and regret all the time I was without you,
the terrible storms
that demanded tenderness
not pills
to quell and soothe
to place my arms around yours
to love and not blame
to surrender and not forget

*

En mi casa
habitan caracoles
donde descansan y sueñan
las espirales de mi lengua
y sus múltiples lenguajes
Mi
lengua
serpiente
espiral
espiritual
en la casa del caracol

Mi lengua
es un huracán
para llegar
al Pacífico
de tus ojos turbulentes
Hay que traspasar
por la doble tormenta
de mi cuerpo y su lenguaje:
vientos caracoleados
empujados
por la tranquilidad
el sol
de
infinitas
cuchillas

Mi lengua
está hecha
de los huesos más
versátiles
en la historia
de huesos y lenguajes
Es el pulpo
en el mar de los sonidos cósmicos
y lenguas terrestres
que se arrastran
a rodillas
peregrinos
a la catedral
de tus oídos

*

Que fascinante
cargar la vida
un rato
envuelta
tejida
pegada
descomponiéndose
pudriéndose
floreciendo
sobre este
esqueleto universal
bajo el cielo mimbrado

my skin, my tongues
my tattoo history, my whirlwind words
my liquid suns
her roots, vines
scurrying patiently
tightening, twisting
around my skeleton
I squeeze into a cave
a sideways womb
of dust, mud, rock
my ancestral mother
chanting, grunting, panting
sweat lodge
my body...

Prohibido no ser humano | Being Inhuman prohibited

 

Arnoldo García

Prohibido no ser humano | Being inhuman prohibited

It was never allowed

Hablar español en la escuela

The white monolingual English-only teacher hit us with rulers, hands, swat-boards

Just for being Mexican

We were human, yet not human enough.

It was never allowed

You couldn’t get away with entering a room and not greet your elders with respect and reverence

To forget your dead, your ancestors and your ancestors to be

To forget the land, the gardens, the fields, where maize, watermelons, frijol grew underneath rooted to the ancestors, all of them

It was never allowed

To forget to pray, to mourn 40 days, 40 nights

and not be de luto for one year

It was never allowed

To talk first and not listen to the elders, the women, the viejitos, the infirm, those on their deathbed

It was never allowed

To receive pay, recognition or praise without work, without sweat, without sacrifice first

To put yourself forward ahead of others

To choose your friends

The squeaky wheel rolled away by itself

It was never allowed

To ignore the people, the community, the viejitas, the matriarchs, with their guidance, their good and best words

Who made us dream together

Who made us work together

Who made us live a shared vision

Who made us share a home, the food, the laughter

Who gave us life

Everyone else was first, you made room for them

Because you knew they were the other you.