Månad: augusti 2004
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Spanish and Xicanismo
Spanish has always been a problem in Aztlán. Though am second guessing this problem is slowly turning a leaf in the collective concious in as much as Native Americans are more and more preferring to be addressed as that or have that as part of their lives. Geeeeez, even my second generation mexican american cousins…
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Elder Mark
Los miras caminando por las calles. Hay veces que se detienen y causan curiosidad por la plaquita que les cuelga en el bolsillo derecho de su camisa blanca. Es como un uniforme, con corbata negra, camisa blanca, pantalones negros y una mochila. Siempre estan bien cuidados, su aspecto físico es impecable y siempre andan de…
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Nada
Passively scouring the media Sifting through human remains Am bombarded my eyes shot red Left riddled with half-cooked notions I trod on in ether all teared Through the bardwired wide world web Seeking not knowing what Respite from the pain perhaps Of seeing all those deadly aims I stand idle in oceans of hate Watching…
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Luther in Me
My awareness One moment to another Measured by the morning sun Finished by the nightly stars Skirrs like the wind that fills my lungs I sense no motion Only conmotion I dread the passing of the hours Making me feel pointless as I awake and it’s 7 o’clock already.
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t-90:sd at 2am
crunching metal twisting engine sounds that promise clear blue skies on a loft out there.
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emo-scissors
Se reduce a la imposibilidad de í«xpresión, ella, ella me corta, con tijeras invisibles, cualquier trazo o seña de felicidad justo al momento de brotar.
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vb:ty a las 3am
dijo que no es así la soledad quizá sea si tan sólo una excusa para entretenernos. Un presente efímero. Más yo siempre he vivido con ella. así haya billones con quién compartir. Así que si algo he aprendido es saber cortar los lazos que se forman cuando de repente lo místico hace lo inexplicable. Me…
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Swing’in it by
The clouds were in a hurry today. They moved like on a call. Giving out a radiant white look, they were cumulus on a majestic trek. I saw the wind too shake the electric wires hanging midair between the sky and the ground. A green covered landscape peppered my sight with pines trees and a…
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Hanan al-Shaykh: Beirut Blues
He estado leyendo por varios meses el libro de la escritora libanesa Hanan al-Shaykh, Beirut Blues. No es que sea un Don Quijote, es más ni llega a las 400 páginas pero me ha costado leerlo, junto al de Salman Rushdie The Ground Beneath her Feet que también me ha costado leerlo, casi dos años.…
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That one dawn
That night spelled out so many things, like a petate strewn on the floor. My brain lay idle awaiting answers. I couldn’t figure A from Z to be frank, and I was. Frank’s the name. I was born in Aztlan. And the rays of the dawn broke not only my concentration, it shattered my soul.…