JoseHdz
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My stories
They Haven't Loved
I can’t stand when People say Mature love Is beyond jealousy And full of trust-- They haven’t loved. I want you To yearn for my Every thought And howl at My silent poems.
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Nopales for Breakfast
My grandmother is Preparing the Nopales In the kitchen-- It is dawn. As she cuts Away at the Flesh of The ancient Plant, Stripping it Of its thorns, I see Our future, Raza:
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I Thought of Jack Kerouac
I thought of Jack Kerouac Today as I entered The public library Eyes down Rolling Rolling Along the tiled floors Pen warm Tucked between My ear and skull
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- 7930 reads
The True Poet
My grandfather was The true poet The way he Tilled the land With his hands Beneath the sun He seemed to Touch the sky With his thoughts
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- 2456 reads
Sun Soaked Eyes
Along the brazen border That separates Tijuana and San Diego, Indigenous children Sell packets of gum On the side Of the freeway For nickels and dimes;
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- 2128 reads