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Chicano Poet: July 2004

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Friday, July 30, 2004. To See The World In A Single Girl Of Sand. Every poem is to die for. Said the skinny, young poetess. As she leaned against the wall. Before the poetry reading. The first poet to read. Was an old poet. Were sculptured in the desert. Swarmed like local locust. The audience put on goggles. To keep the sand out of their eyes. It crept into their bones. Then, after the reading. The poetess introduced herself. Her eyes sparkled like nearby stars. He held her hand in his,. From the dead,.

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Chicano Poet: September 2005

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Friday, September 30, 2005. Somewhere in the Black Hills of Papalote. There lived a young Chicano. One day his ruca ran off. With some desgraciado,. This ain’t kosher, this ain’t cool, he cried. Henry said I’m gonna get that vato. So he traveled to that brown town,. He checked into a room. Only to find Janay Gideon’s Bible. Surrounded by the sinning God. Henry had his pistolas and was prepared. To shoot off the pendejo’s bolas. Even if the puto had none. He found the treacherous lovers. But you couldn’t ...

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Chicano Poet: December 2004

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Friday, December 31, 2004. Elegy For Jim Cody. Jim died in a wreck. For a few days,. In his mind,. Pacing back and forth. With no where to go. With each other,. Lines from one poem. Stanzas became titles,. I could see the poetry. Posted by RC @ 2:50 PM. Thursday, December 30, 2004. Is Time A Wave Or A Particle? Out of the Texas skies. Rise to the clouds,. And even now, two planes. Head towards New York City. Posted by RC @ 1:53 PM. Wednesday, December 29, 2004. I Look At The Pictures. Of the devastation,.

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Chicano Poet: October 2004

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Sunday, October 31, 2004. Dubya Wears His Cowardly Lion Mask. As we speak,. The yellow brick road. Posted by RC @ 1:31 AM. Saturday, October 30, 2004. Bloopers From Last Week. Well, my mama. To see right through me. Yes, I’ve seen. And , of course,. Down to his knees. Dubya yells, "Hey, Moses. Put that staff,. Posted by RC @ 2:41 AM. Friday, October 29, 2004. Burning Down The House. There’s nothing left,. But an ashen desert. As his suit,. By Los Pachucos.*. Who were melted away. We’ve lost in Iraq.

zedosfrangos.blogspot.com

ZeDosFrangos: Portugal/Slovakia Anniversary

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One year ago this past April 16th Portugal/Slovakia. Was released during simultaneous festas in Lisbon, Bratislava, and Austin. I had a great time hearing Julie and Ric read selections from the album while broadcasting its first public hearing around the world. See fotos here. I want to take this opportunity to once again thank everyone that supported the Zé Dos Frangos project and invite you to purchase the physical album at a reduced price or to download it for free. 597 CD at AARecords. Thanksgiving P...

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Chicano Poet

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Friday, May 22, 2015. Gregorio Sanchez was like any other poor barrio kid. Except that he was born with eight feet. And of course the other barrio. Called him El Ocho Patas. He was doing the. Stupid Pet Tricks segment. Letterman on the ass. El ocho patas thought. Oh, wait a minute. Posted by RC @ 9:07 AM. View my complete profile. Pimp My Ride They pimped el ochos ride because . In Waco With The Bandidos In Waco with the Bandid. Green Eggs And Ham I would not quote James Wright. HENRY AND MR.BONES.

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Chicano Poet: June 2005

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Thursday, June 30, 2005. How I Remember Death Growing Up. What I hated most. When I was growing up. Was when some relative died- -. It was not the death itself,. But the fact that I knew. We wouldn’t be able. To listen to the radio. Until the mourning period was over. Can’t I just listen to the news? And grandma would give me. An ugly look and say No! But, if they left the house. To run an errand. Or visit the grieving relatives. I’d turn on the TV,. The volume real low,. A constant watch out the window.

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Chicano Poet: March 2005

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Thursday, March 31, 2005. A poem together,. Pecking at the seeds,. Before a meal,. Each seed has its place,. Each place its time. It is a measly meal. That must be made sufficient. With no heart,. A heart must be made. Must have vision,. Robert Creeley has flown off. Posted by RC @ 5:15 AM. Wednesday, March 30, 2005. Mr Bones is a bottle-nosed dolphin,. He doesn’t care what people say. About his aluminum can thinking. The homeless collect his thoughts,. To buy the necessities of life,. Of a super tanker.

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Chicano Poet: May 2005

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Tuesday, May 31, 2005. Moonlight On My Machine. Painted ships upon a painted desert. Ah, that’s Close Encounters Of The Third Kind,. Sherman told the cicada girl. Who was hanging on his arm. The past, whatever past. They had ventured into, twirled. Was way too precise. The cicada girl was wearing the same jeans. She had worn to Papalote. The very first time she made. Sherman kicked the Gobi desert sand. From his cowboy hat. And balanced sand grains. One on top of the other. The cicada girl’s eyes. He fee...

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Chicano Poet: July 2005

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Friday, July 29, 2005. Henry’s Purple Love Poem For Sandra Cisneros. You bring out the Mexican in me,. Your purple house meandering,. The mind Malinche in the purest form, reform,. The river in the canyons of the city, pity. You took that picture of Henry. For the cover of his third book, Henry crook,. Unbeloved Chicano poet that he was. And still continues to be, agree,. Henry won’t get down on his knees, pee. The Mexican in me is brown and beautiful. And ugly just like the agringado- -. Pick the cotton,.