Award-winning Mexican poet and author of the bestselling novel Battles in the Desert died on January 26th. Mr. Pacheco was born June 30, 1939. Here are two of his poems, English translations by David Shook, offered thanks to …Continue
When I grew tired of living in the Body of Christ, Texas,
I moved myself to the Blood of Christ Mountains
Up in the northern part of New Mexico, where I got lost
In the ponderosa pines, trying to track the rainbow trout
Inside the Duomo, Milan
Marble pillars like giant Sequoias tower
to an impossibly high roof, spire after spire
Mr. Baraka lived from October 7th 1934 to January 9th 2014.
Slice Of Life
The train pulled in to Hartsville, S. C, and an
angel jumped out....
It was dark and he was scared
And the only sound was the…
The Lions of Dusk
The politicians call it
the international district.
The people who live here
speak its true name with pride.
The war zone, where
the veteran’s administration
The Voices of My Desert
Beginning this new trail, with the resonance
of shifting earth about me, I hear calls
distancing the crow voices of my childhood,
the wolf cry of my middle age. The sun
is an ancient symbol above me…Continue
What can you say about anything beginning again?
If a turnover is present are you in it,…
Statistics tell us that
one in ten thousand
has a Santa fetish.
Yes, this Santa has his groupies!…Continue
Jules with Alicia Ultan on Viola
A seagull walks from sea to land
is so that we may rest
our forehead in the hollow
of the goat's side
next to her swelling
abdomen, the coarse hair
ArtStreet is "A community-based project and collective open studio space where art
is used as the connection for community-building for those without and those with
A man finishes burying
his 4 year old son.
The Day I Wore a Dress
(I almost want to start this poem by repeating the title,
but merely typing the above, I know that, now, I don't have to).
Language has a way of creating,
so here I am...trying to tell you I…Continue
A QUIET WAR
The murmur of morning on a.m. streets;
Brisk air, dew rising.
The soft distance of a bird’s wing flapping.
The sky is a beautiful blue today.
Twenty-Somethings ride in their 4x4s.
City buses make…
For Sandra Ferrales, 10/17/80—10/6/13
What did we do
to deserve this beauty -- our blooming cactus flowers, the emerald green shine of our
chiles, the boys
COYOTE CALLS HIS BROTHERS
Sometimes you drive through midnight
I scour the drench
that is manuelitas canyon
rain cuts short the day’s labor
opens my eyes