The heavy dust from dry summers
selling Chiclets inside the rim of a sombrero
Tortured attire of a woolen rainbow
Poncho, pleading to appear a lowly vagabond
by an uncle who seeds alleyways,
Clothed in his tequila stench;
Instructed by an aunt, obese from endless
refried beans and Uno-Vision sopas.
“Chiclets! --at the top of your lungs, mejo!"
Louder as the weight of the dust devils possess
His voice : a squeaking version of itself,
Coughing at the same spot in Tijuana’s
Miserable, the invisible, at market...
Dirt in his tears, no longer noticed, too often cried
There is no need to pretend how lowly
Or ***** his juvenile face has smeared;
A clown of earthen make-up, in misery’s portrait,
to example the tender, the precious,
have been left to pander to love, for sale.
A paradigm of angels, fallen with the truth;
Deep into this formidable fate in hell.
Here, he is not above the silence
But he must live in it, live to tell,
How wishes are often made without a well.
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 5:38 AM UTC
The heavy dust from dry summers
selling Chiclets inside the rim of a sombrero
Tortured attire of a woolen rainbow
Poncho, pleading to appear a lowly vagabond
by an uncle who seeds alleyways,
Clothed in his tequila stench;
Instructed by an aunt, obese from endless
refried beans and Uno-Vision sopas.
“Chiclets! --at the top of your lungs, mejo!"
Louder as the weight of the dust devils possess
His voice : a squeaking version of itself,
Coughing at the same spot in Tijuana’s
Miserable, the invisible, at market...
Dirt in his tears, no longer noticed, too often cried
There is no need to pretend how lowly
Or ***** his juvenile face has smeared;
A clown of earthen make-up, in misery’s portrait,
to example the tender, the precious,
have been left to pander to love, for sale.
A paradigm of angels, fallen with the truth;
Deep into this formidable fate in hell.
Here, he is not above the silence
But he must live in it, live to tell,
How wishes are often made without a well.
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