No rush of the bulls
filled these narrow cobbled streets
where tradition and
songs sounded over pinxos,
and stories of San-Fermin.

The Culture twists and shrieks, wracked by
violent spasms of regression, recoiling in
pain and terror, contracting inwards
like some giant spider god dying.

Maybe snake oil will
offer a cure.
Perhaps we can
purge the demons
by drilling the right
holes in the right
skulls.  We could try
electro-shocking our way
back to 'normal'.  We
might even rediscover
the benefits
of leeches.  

We're building walls
and burning bridges.
We're forgetting the
lessons we never quite
learned.  We're watching
ourselves watching ourselves
watching ourselves on
an endlessly repeating loop
of tiny glowing screens.  We
willingly downsize our
worlds until we have to make
ourselves smaller, just
so we can still fit.

The future is closer
than we realise.  It's just
not as big as we
thought it would be.

makeup smears
the people jeer
cameras flash
and we all
fall down

I receive your native tongue
like a desperate missionary--

letting it run over my teeth,
stroking the roof of my mouth,
and dancing with my own foreign entity.

I come to you aching
to inhale your exhale,
place my lips to yours.

In the diaspora of spit
from your mouth to mine,
deliver unfathomed riches
of love and wisdom

into my trembling body.

when I was a child
a tremor entered me
and did not leave me for several years
I sat quivering in fear
as I heard a belt striking bare skin
I could almost feel it on my own
'obedece a tu familia'
and I did
this legacy of destructive love
and punishment instilled
by the ancestors of my grandfather
it was in many a scorching summer days
that brought about unadulterated joy
yet so much misery
tempers flared
but we would just keep dancing
playing
obligatory kissing strangers on the cheeks
until it was time to leave
and then I would lay under the cool sheets
my bare feet blackened with the dirt
from outside
hoping that tomorrow I would gain a
little more courage
or become somebody else

I'm proud to say that I am multiracial generational

A product of immigrants who make up America - all of their essence resides in me

Some of them helped build America, some helped making progress and change

Throughout the years, they all played a role in the American dream

I am descended from Africans, Native Americans, Europeans, and Asians

A multigenerational multiracial - I am more than what I seem

when everything is working against you it's hard to stand up. society and your own mind are like gravity ten times stronger than what you experience every day. all the predispositions and beliefs and your religion and your ethics cling to your wrists and your feet and they drag you down until your skull vibrates with pain. and all you can think is my country did this to me. my geographic location is killing me. and if only i were from here or from there or from thither or yon then where would be be? better. standing? maybe. i would like to think so. some say they know so. i'll never know though. your upbringing is a brace and a shape that you take and it's set before you birth. it's a gift and a poison seeping through your veins, controlling your hands and your feet to do the thing you're told is right and keeping at bay those thoughts that make you think things unacceptable to a crowd. well i say undo yourself. cut away those puppet strings and let them fly like ribbons from your free hands. they will colour your dance of independence and show the masses they are ***** and you will be an inspiration to all. just wait. if you fall you fall. maybe it will be worth it because you got to dance and they didn't.