No matter how serene things
may be in my life,
how well things are going,
my body and soul
Padilla unloads mangy herd of Mexican
cattle in the field.
Meaner, horns long and sharp
Cattle cars in the downtown freightyard
squeal and groan, and sizzling grills
The lover's footprint in the sand
the ten-year-old kid's bare feet
in the mud picking chili for ri
I see Senora Sanchez
along the river.
pop the silver
behave yourself you always said to me.
I behaved myself
when others were warm in wi
The blackbird sits
On a bronchial limb
Squeal his guts
Jimmy Santiago Baca
Is a question of strength,
of unshed tears,
of being trampled under,
and always, always,
Everybody to sleep the guard symbolizes
on his late night tour of the tombs.
When he leaves, after
I went to see
How the West Was Won
at the Sunshine Theater.
Five years old,
deep in a plush seat
It would be neat if with the New Year
I could leave my loneliness behind with the old
If it does not feed the fire
of your creativity, then leave it.
If people and things do not
They turn the water off, so I live without water,
they build walls higher, so I live without treeto
I am offering this poem to you,
since I have nothing else to give.
Keep it like a warm coat,
My hands the Hook thunder hangs its hat on,
My breast the Arroyo storms fill with water,
My brow t
There are black guards slamming cell gates
on black men,
And brown guards saying hello to brown me
It was a time when they were afraid of him.
My father, a bare man, a gypsy, a horse
with broken kn
for Pat and Victorio
Spread eagle sheep legs wide,
wire hooves to shed beams,
and sink blade in
I could not disengage my world
from the rest of humanity.
Wind chill factor 11° below
We bought a small house
along the river, in Southside barrio.
A shack I pried boards from the fron
to a dark stage.
I lie there awake in my prison bunk,
in the eye-catching silence
of prison night
I feel foolish,
like those silly robins jumping on the ditch boughs
when I run by them.
Is cut close, blades and bones,
And the stench of sewers is everywhere,
Snow’s been melting too soon—
passing the Río Grande every day, I note
water level is high,
throws his great white shield
on the ground,
breaking thin arms of twisting branches,
An acquaintance at Los Alamos Labs
who engineers weapons
black x’d a mark where I live
on his o
I prefer red chile over my eggs
and potatoes for breakfast.
Red chile ristras decorate my door,
We are born with dreams in our hearts,
looking for better days ahead.
At the gates we are given ne
Elm branches radiate green heat,
blackbirds stiffly strut across fields.
Beneath bedroom wood floo
Pancho, the barrio idiot.
Rumor is that una bruja from Bernalillo
le embrujo. Unshaven, chattering