Sky without shade

for sale, this celestial

blue in bad need

of a hat.

And,

if all goes

as planned:

Clouds

For Rent.

Police Blotter, May 5th, 2013, San Miguel de Allende

Piropos given to the elderly—one.

Listening without interrupting—four.

Admiration for wildlife without intent to kill—two.

Homes on Sunday with no one knocking on the door—seven.

Hugging and kissing babies—one hundred and eleven.

Vehicles loaned to the needy—three.

Pedestrians halted by jacaranda—thirteen.

Employees who love their jobs—eight.

Healed by laughter—sixty-seven.

Domestic harmony—thirty-three.

Citizens held hostage by the sunset—fifty-six.

Beautification and creation in lieu of violence—twenty-one.

Orderly conduct without force—forty-four.

Gifts of money with no personal motive—five.

Telephone kindness—thirteen.

Sexual generosity—three.

Poems delivered—one.

Quiero ser maguey en mi próxima vida

Dar cara al sol todo el día.

Reventar hijos al aire

Como una piñata.

Ahorrar agua.

Brotar una flor con fleco estirándose al cielo.

Estirando, estirando al cielo, qué lujo.

Quiero pertenecer a estas tierras

Que existían antes de que

El mundo fuera redondo.

Picar las nalgas

De los que se acercan demasiado.

Regalar aguamiel al que se atreve a

Chupar mi jugo.

Y morir de esta comunión.

Deshacerme como ceniza.

Volver a vivir en la tierra.

Violenta.

Explotar de la huerta como Paricutín.

Volver volver volver a renacer.

Morir para siempre ser.

I Want to Be a Maguey in My Next Life

Face to the sun all day.

Burst offspring into the air

Like a piñata.

Store water.

Bloom a tasseled flower

Stretching itself to the sky.

Stretching, stretching to the sky,

What luxury.

I want to belong to these lands

That existed before the world

Was round.

Pinch the asses of those who

Come too close to me.

Give aguamiel to the one who dares

Suck my juice.

And die from this communion.

Dissolve like ash.

Return to live on earth.

Violent.

Detonate from a field like Paricutín.

Return return return to be reborn.

Die to eternally be.

Cantos
y
llantos

Back Then or Even Now

A SONG FOR GUITAR

I liked being young

with you once.

A moment or two,

here and there

with you once.

When you

were a poet,

and I was a poet.

Wordsmiths afraid

of the words

shimmering

right before us.

I remember censoring

myself when I was sober.

Spontaneous combustion

when I wasn’t.

We did a lot of things

back then

under the courage

of alcohol.

We were a two-

ring-circus knife act.

Blade zinging

in the air, thud-

landing near

a shivering artery.

A thrill, a chill a minute.

Me and you.

I was leaving town,

and you were staying.

That’s why we each held

back from saying.

It takes growing older

to see some things

imagined were real.

Back then or even now.

Canto for Women of a Certain Llanto

AFTER DYLAN THOMAS

I’d rather wear none

than ugly underwear made