One wise-man

Forced off a boat
some two-years old,
Dropped like a Parcha
in freezing snow.

Known by any number of names,
"Ka-jermo", fuckhead,
asshole, wetback, spic.

Beaten raw like swollen fruit.
By the blue-eyed monster
who took up suit
By Busting lips and
long-lost roots,
With plenty of help
from the Sisters of Immersion.
and my grandmother's Icons

Under the watchful eye of
Saint "fill-in-the-fucking-blank",
Ol' Blue-eyes forced
one daughter into becoming a woman,
before it was time

His deep, brown eyes,
seeing more then they could bear,
turned to scotch and whiskey,
and salty air.

A wild Rocinante,
of black-out proportions,
with hell-bent fists,
that burnt like hot embers,
a heart bleeding with triste

Then comes the news of
her brutal murder...
over the TV static
and the water-hole's clamor.
14 year-old sister,
snuffed out in an instant.
No one say a word.
Blue-eye's a suspect.


28 years,
come and gone now
without even a sip.
Still hardened, but less now,
with loss of
vision

He seems to soften
with each new, inflection.
It seems time's not so static,
for anger's resignation.

Then two days before Christmas Eve,
cops get called to see my Aunt's
newly-bruised face,
delivered by the Prodigal son
of my maternal race,
who left Costa Rica
in a bit of a haste.

Exploited funds of
"third world" markets.
Fucked one too many,
until someone caught it,
Left tracks of questionable mud,
on Aunt's expensive
carpet.

So up she quit,
a man-made town,
dropped a baby in my lap,
some 120 pounds.
40 of that gone now,
she lay here beside me.
Two lives resurrected--
two slow deaths averted.

Sham and son
no sooner did follow,
tried to reclaim
what's no longer theirs now,
with banging and howls.

Sham proclaiming "do what is right!"
While "Auntie Resigned"
turned into "Fright Night",
Spitting Linda-Blair-style venom,
She sent shoulder-pads flying.
Left Annie, alone, shaken and crying.

But loyal is she, the one who is loved,
baby-girl stood by,
because she knew who's she was.

And underestimated is it,
that clear shot of Annie's,
Still got a good eye with
enough grit to bear it.

And a warrant lay out there
in cyberspace, still.
Plenty of dimes around now,
Many slots left to fill.

"if danger comes,
I'll be in your corner"..

drink again this Passiflora,
You see these nucleotides here,
are way out of order.
Some truth lay hidden,
Though Laius be dead now.

With a nod of the head
and a pat on the shoulder.
I struck up deal with a
forlorn father.
"Guillermo?" I asked.
"Yes, YOU are my daughter."


On Christmas Day,
the moon burst
big, bright and yellow,
Un milagro in Minga valley
with no bells or whistles,
No gold, no frankincense, no myrrh
and no manger,
Just some water-downed coffee
and enough truth to stir,

A swirl of elixir,
in both word and in gesture
reawakening the spirit
of this dying daughter...