Mi corazon, an ivory-veined granite rock
tossed into the Rio Grande moons ago.
I want to float up, pierce the muddied waters
like a machete and fight for what’s right;
for mis hermanas, but I’m only half, not real.
I want to be one with you, but I’m güera,
I’m fighting my own guerra at home.
Writing? What writing? As I stare at this white paper, empty and yet pregnant with doubts about being a writer, I can only think about my recent past and how I’ve made that my excuse for not writing. Another new year and it seems I’ve lost all seeds of inspiration. If not for pictures,Continue reading “Paper Whites”
Wearing my running shoes and favorite stretch pants, I was almost ready as I drove across the valley, still groggy and with a cup of coffee in hand. But when I arrived at the Universal Studio train station and then circled the parking lot, it became clear I wasn’t going to find a spot. IContinue reading “I GOT WOKE”
Mi corazon, an ivory-veined granite rock, was tossed into the Rio Grande moons ago. El Rio, the great divider of brown and white. I want to float up and pierce the muddied waters with my machete and fight for what is right; for mis hermanos y hermanas, but I am only half. I want toContinue reading “La Guera’s Guerra”