a Spectacles of Sonnets.not mere Cruelties of Survival or Disrepute of Artistic Labor.

Your poems will be of Circuses, of Clowns
and Trapeze Artists. The Lion Tamer's
Son will act as Muse. Listen when he Cries.
Remember that your own Sweet Innocence
he contains within his Eyes. Realize
you are not the First nor are you the Last,
to Perform your Role in the Amusement,
as though it were a Separate Exercise,
not the mere Cruelty of Survival
in Disreputable Artistic Trades:

The Tragic Mode Americana
The Festival of Lances, Spears, Arrows
and The Grand Finale--these Vaudeville Acts
shall conclude the Spectacles of Sonnets.

Representation con Safos WTF.

No, Sir, I do not see I to I with you.
From the Get-Go you began with Cliches
such as Chicano Poetry is Crude.
Je n'accorde! What did you expect me to Say?
You want me to Agree with Uneven
statements and Unfair Authority?
Sorry, Dude, I'm a Doctor: My Sujet
comes First. Son les Mots de mi Plebe, Peeps,
students, workers. Les Proletariats?
I didn't say that! You are the one, Marxist
in a Designer Beret, Mercedes
and All. Enjoy your Status, I'm here to make
my Mark--an Accurate etaruccA--
Representation con Safos WTF.

Zootsuiters Pachucas, its our Chance to Materialize Redondescas Palabras Chicanas.

Zootsuiters Pachucas, its Our Chance to
Materialize--cuz we've seen the Violence
and know its Origins, que no tiene Nada
que ver con La Frontera.  Ese Ombligo
les Obliga tener amor de la Madre Pura
Vida.  Ay voy yov yA  Delincuente,
a tus Ordenes, porque andas en las calles
matando como un Animal? Y ni ellos
que son Fuertes mas fuertes que Tu--
usa la Mente!!  ya Estufas con la Locura!!
Sientencen y con Calma, Haganse por
lo Menos poetas Cabrones, En estas Rayas
mandan las Mujeres a ver Quienes Aguantan
a Mis Redondescas Palabras Chicanas.

The Beauty of Sorrow is a Savage song.

The rhyme it isn’t working, the lines are long
or  short. I promise to improve them but

I must also have my say (Doc Williams please

Come help me, Mr. Grouch, don’t worry

I won’t judge you worse than I).  Yes, America

Is beautiful we know that that is true,

And yes every Lovely woman has her enemies,

Mostly she selects herself as her own Adversary.

But let me say this, settle down, America,

Yes you are the Fairest of them All, but can’t you

Stop and slow things down.  Must you rush

To batter innocence with which you fell in love?

The Beauty of sorrow is a savage song
sung from the Cinders of a lyre in flame.

Persephonia of Pluto's Devices c/S

Oh goodness gracious, where did my Smile go
when Pluto descended on my mini
van, my children were waiting for dinner?
I hadn't yet heard of Minerva, Daphne,
or the others, so I evaded him.
I sent myself to my Mother Ser
through the Messages I left with the Nymphs.
They were octosyllabic verse libre
what can I say? Things are not Ideal
in the Underworlds, the Men are Rapists
and Lynchers, but you know that, I'm aware.
Recidivists are the most pitiable
wizards. They strike with their magic no more.

Love Letters: Rated Mature Audiencias

Happy are the words fixated Oral
traditions making love in language's
dominion. Assonance I want for you
continuous cunninglingus fruitful
lenguazo. Anden no sean Atorados.
We making it Real in Pixels nos
amamos sin limite, amorosas
silabas. Multipliquemonoslas
mariposas, sirenas, y Vanas.
Agitese I love you petals.
Happier yet are those words the tongue speaks
to itself anatoauerotica
puro esencia Bilabiotecaria
mi Amor soy la Fantasia palabra.

Organically Grown Edible Petals

My Poems run on Clean Fuel Energy.

Dipthongs, assonance, Lines of Prosody

that take the Curves of Language==run it straight==

a Bridge, a Stanza, Hurry Up. It's short

by one Beat. Re-arrange it. Make it fit.

Sound, Race to the end of the Line High Speed.

Or cruise thine Circumference silken let-

ters. Oh my! you are of Richest Thread count.

See you shine you shine you shine you shine you

are Mine, my reader, please don't you desert

me ever Again.  I have no toxic 

Waste. No ThumbPrint. I am the Essence Oil

No Fossil fuels are consumed Son Mis Words
organically grown Edible petals.

Soy la Saffamerican C/s~~ Are you There Lesbias?

The passion in this Lesbian of Lesbians
brings me here to Pound on Keys a Rhythm
I am here here am I, LoVeLies, Commence
the Dada Dada Wiri Wiri I'm
la hija de mi Madre Viva la
Vida Reina Mia Milagrosa
Mama Nunca nos Separen, Madre?
Madre? No se pa Donde me Llevaran
Dos hombres de Arana, un blanco
y un negro. Si, padre Memoria.
Father of the Muses, Monsieur,
J'taime, j'taime, je t'adore Por favor
I need a Gown, some Slippers, a Doorman
Soy La SaffaMericana C/S.

This is History Speaking

Oyes tu! Escusame, as we say

in the D.R. This is history speaking.

I recall my solitary dungeon

very well.  Driven out of libraries,

down into the gutter, all my faithful scribes

go to the gallows, guillotine, and pyres.

I saw the wire fences of ghettoes,
refugee camps, barrios, favelas

and all the villages holding their strength

against oblivion and prostitution.

I remember every detail

from the Inquisition to the 14^th

Amendment. I was at the Continental

Congress. I took Notes! I won’t be silenced!

RA rA Ra poEsiA Carnival Calo

Poesia upside down, crawling back
wards, inside, out. Let's see what happens next.
Here's the lion tamer's son, little cub,
an acrobat. Let's learn your ABC's.
Carnalito, you make me smile when
you wear your clownsuit and we both pretend
without fear that unhappy laws are gone.
Ticket Sale for the Carpa, come one
and all nos vamos al Circo Chuco
a ver al flim flam, muchachos, damas,
no hay remedio mas chido que el payaso
que nos levanta a nuestra carcajada.
Alivianate joven bailarin
El Espectaculo empieza, ay les va!

I am the Ethnic Studies Professor: The Most Wanted Educator this Side of Tucson

I am the Ethnic Studies Maestra

the most Wanted educator this side

of Tucson Arizona. An Outlaw

that’s me. Yo Soy Joaquin y Tiburcio

las soldaderas. Todos los santos

que me cuiden dentro de mi salon.

Hago mi trabajo cada dia mejor

vivo mi historia de todo Corazon

siento que soy maestra en prision

pues muchos los demas no respetan

and it seems they’re living in the past

when Mexicans could not drink from water

fountains, attend good schools, or ride the bus.

I say these words so everyone can hear.

Hello Sweden over there so Lovely We're not Mere Immigrants

Hello Sweden over there so Lovely

and Russia, South Korea, Mexico

you can see this right? Verdad? Mississippi

Yes you everyone whose Eyes hold me

Come here  –Catch this and that, my Heart and Soul,

our humanication. We the people

know though we are degraded high and low

that we are no longer mere Immigrants.

We are your victimized classes and poor.

Though it seems we're not Movers and Shakers
in these very Stressful Times, we can reMake
the World by Mandate of Art for Art's Sake

Ingenuity Soliloquy none

but the best and our memory as  One.

Write it Down Poetas y Chingones

As I was saying, the sole tragedy

There is or could ever be is the death

Of the imagination.  The Inner Stir

of Emotional grandeur. Ah,Vallejo,

de Beber. Y sus santos por donde iba,

he traveled in the company of musas.

It so Happens to be a Code Switch,

Espanglish. Don’t you see Poetry

is running like water from the garden

hose. Go and turn it Down. Stop Waste.
Don’t you see how many more Songs

you might have Worded by now!

Callase, quit Leaking all your Language.

Write it Down Poetas y Chingones

La Llorona Drops By My Lyrical Hoes

Leave me alone. I’m just writing poems.

Nothing illegal here, nothing at all,

but scribing for my people is all I’m

capable of, not much else after all

Yo, I'm just another lyrical Hoe,

a half breed Mexican Indian whew,

a historical non-entity, shrew,

whatteva. When it all comes down again,

I’ll remember the slight annoyances,

the tongue depressor inside of my mouth,

woman-of-coloreds are so desirable.

A haunting female is crossing the page.

She's my madrina. Her cries are mine
and this--my territory to avenge her.

Ay mi pueblo, Adios, dispense que le canto chuquerria

OIgan amistades conflictuadas es lo Importante.  
Retener a los Ideas,no aceptar a las definiciones.  
Los Retenes no solamente van por un lado, 
y los Ideas deben de tener su Defensas. No hay
que soportar tantas Igualdades de morales,
sean Hombres porque a los Hombres los
conocemos desde la historia. Aunque se
canta de un lesbianismo no lo noto si no 
en la Saffa Americana, con Safos, porque de
Manera u otra, entre las mujeres, se han
reestablecido los Generos sea lo que sea,
se siguen repartando en hombre y Mujer.
Y asi entonces no vengan a chispirrear sobre
las sexualidades Ya Vamos Disfrutamos. 
Iguales somos. La libertad no es Comprada.
Es gratis herencia de nuestro pais mas ejemplar:
es la islita que se llama la imaginacion, canto-
palabra, Dibujitos, Hembras, hombres, machas,
senoritos, doble sentido, menage a trois,
Ya es hora de Enfloreamar. Ay mi pueblo, 
Adios despense que le canto chuquerria.

Queen Soldier Calafia of the Sovereign State of the LDC Imagination, 450 Years Ago

There reigned in California, her homeland,

Queen Calafia, Black Matriarch Knight

extraordinaire of legendary fame,

beauty and might known over Oceans.

She hears word of military actions,

of looters, raiders, and worthy rivals.

She’s looking for a Goode Fight and her girls

are ready. Under command, her nation

of women, alert, well-trained, and tested

like the Amazon. She ruled her island

that lay near Heaven, hotlands, and gold-

rich land. And she willed herself to battle,

not Mistress with lowered fists, collapsed heart,

nor the futile crying of men's warfare.

Transvestite Imagination ReDoNe

Woven within Reality so Fine

I get dressed up for Walking on Paper

as a Character of a Novel, long hair

Pants comfortable, shoes supportive,

and Thinking Cap. Hey, Reality, I’ll be Back.

I travel Back and Forth. For I Can leave

and then Return. What I do not believe

I can unseam, adapt, re-make. It smacks

of the Fine Art that consumes Me. I am 

in its Grasp. The Doppleganger in Cap

has arrived at last and so I re-Cap

embellished memories of myself as a man
with the Silk Threads and Needles for Spinning

round the Transvestite Imagination.

The Political Imagination Raises its Hand

What is the further purpose of your visit?

I see the Fever of your Eyes. Poor Sad 

America and Uncle Sam become

what they fund. What is it to you? Why care? 

Where has Love hidden itSelf, Friend Country?

To suffer with political illness,

fear that humans won't survive the seasons.

So there's something going down. Its okay,
pick it Up, study it, comprehend it
and watch it undergo Unknown changes.
Kaleidoscopic humans remember who you are.
Let there be Free Inquiry, Rights to Think,
to till the soil of the mind, To Grow!
The Imagination wants to Flower.

Transvestite Imagination: Leaves of a Book

I broke into Reality so Fine

and dressed up to goWalking on Paper

as the Character of a Novel, hair Long,

Pants comfortable, supportive shoes,

and a Thinking Cap. Reality, I’ll be Back.

So I travel Back and Forth. Can Leave

then Return. My mind has been satisfied

without satisfaction. The hunger for rare

knowledge has consumed Me. I am in its

Mouth. And the Doppleganger in Cap

has arrived.  Such is the embellished memory

of myself as a man dressed up as a woman.

What was that if it was not the Spinning

of the Transvestite Imagination?

Women in the Garden of Words

Anybody heard it? That women named
the world? Wasn't it our Mother Eva
the first of her Kind and who was assigned
as Lady of the Garden? I don't know
of the Official record of Eden
nor all its Dimensions, but it is True
it was Majestic, an Original
and of Green Illuminant.
Did we really Fall at all, women?
We invented language as Idea.
We bit the Fruit and Consumed its Knowledge:
We can describe it sweet, pungent, meaty,
and by those means the Fruit of our Thought
we Call them Sciences and Languages.