Yellow Notebook #1

spilled
splashed
me
On my fingers, on its tips
can it disguise me?
can it engulf the identity that I no longer be?
it feels safe and warm
but i see vast fields, i wish not to go
i want to turn, retrace my steps
but where did the road go?
did it ever lead anywhere?
did it mean
a pit-stop, a chill?
i miss its vibration against the inside of my skin
the spell it cast of never-ending unknown
my learning, not yours

Comments

June

This is the second time I see you and you are no longer a little boy. You're much taller, your hair, you've let grow. You are a young man with a crown of cornrows. We meet in the city, with your dad, at a sidewalk cafe. You walk away from my view. Maybe to pick up our drinks. Your dad speaks to me this time. He's no longer the brooding man on the couch. Y our dads much older since I last saw you. His eyes are droopy but they rise when he speaks of you and when he smiles. His freckles show more; on his nose bridge, on the high part of his cheeks. His dreds are thicker but the color is lighter, like brown, smoky, dusk. His glasses are the same thin metal frames from always. He t ells me how well you're doing. How well your both doing. How everything is well. I mention your grandmother- I heard about your mom. I reach out and place my hand over his- I'm really sorry. Your dad's bottom lip quivers and he gives me a nod. You come...

Riding the tracks

1. Kids don’t walk the fine lines They blur through them To a level misunderstood Where some reach an edge Where elders deem stupid Because they’ve lost the scope To view the glow 2. Remember that first time When you had me shine That exhilaration of riding the line The blue that awesome night When happiness was validated Because it was shared between us I and you have grown And learned from our joys 3. God Do you’ve any idea how much I feel For you? My life is half full Because of you. I can not breath Due to you. Is there a word to describe what I feel For you? All Day Long My chest aches when I think of you Hyperventilating, my hands search the cool ground For you I lay here confused in my head Thinking over Over Over what was just said, Interpretations stop me dead 4. Shall I shut the blinds so you can admire All the lines and cracks and pores Of my home I do, too long to admire To gaze At st...

The importance of the brown round table

It wasn't until last summer that i felt the need to write down my mother's and father's personal stories It wasn't until last week that i felt the value in each individual piece I don't feel value in my other pieces or my work at my office job which helps so many people but what is the value of a life lived in Chicago, as a woman, as a brown woman as a woman who labels herself Mexican and chubby is it only up to me to build this value, to build it inside of me so that others can feel then see that i do belong here that my words belong on this page for you to read

La Pura Neta

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