Xikano Arte Y Poesia

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mexican jazz 152

eventually it all catches up to you

the sounds of mexican american birds

condors and eagles without papeles

waiting to cross trumps proposed wall

waiting for the ghosts of your migration

to become the realist adveture they have ever lived

waiting for the memory of us to become

some cold frame in the molding corn

waiting for the memory of our arrival

on this tonantzin to be remembered

waiting for the ghost getting tangled at the border

to unveil another set of memories

waiting for all of us to forget and forgive

all this nonsense about papers and borders

about lost souls and exit tracks to go home

were the ones we’ve been waiting for

in the onslaught of memories

in the onslaught of how did we get here


were are the children of the ghosts

migrating across the universe

across the third world

across the popul vuhs memories

across oceans of stars

across the mission set back to our beginning

we are the ones we’ve been waiting for

to remember all the parts needed to go home

we are the ones waiting to go home

without anymore papers.

mexican jazz part 151

we  sing along the side of the road

waiting for another mexican american jazz hit

to come along the intergallactic radio dial

waiting for tonatiuh to show us the way back home

we are just sitting here knowing that the inevitable is

evitable. ghosting away the silence of lost generations

we have become both the bridge and the border

a metaphor of metaprose waiting to break open

another song. waiting to become the poems

of trilingual gibberish open to the word of the world

there are scribblings inside children’s notebooks

in the back of the classroom. mayan azteca mestizo

graffiti glyphs that will be crumbled into the pockets

of lonely chicanas waiting for something other than

wordsworth or chaucer. waiting of cisneros and rodriguez

to pour through their veins . Popul Vuh tatooted in their D.N.A.

they’re waiting for the ghost to arrive somewhere in a dead end

back alley. waiting for the walls to scrawl their names etched

in their spines.

chicano codex coloring books

mexican jazz part 150

chicano power

red earth.                i am layered        snake winged

talons of pigeons. and telephone poles


burritos. frito pie. azteca.

hot cheeto  warrior

enduring. sustainable.

coca cola drinking              water rights  fighting

hopeful singer

broken down in the sentiment

of chicanissmo.

dancing skin wailing.                 breath.   screaming


open call. open song. open dream hamburger

french fries awakening.



mexican jazz part 149

welfare door

jail doors

project homes

sons of tribal chiefs

foreign people


brains and blood

hearts of gold, codex, arte  musica

deerskin       drum hides


greed and poison

la raza comics                     breaking


fighting to             remember all the layered

historical borders


olmeca. tarumara . chicano. hispanic. latino.

white. irish. japanese. american. norten~os . suren~os


dancing                          in the tramping memory


exploding through            the tequila . heroin.

peyote. devils’ weed.              marijuna.


black skin. red snaked skin.


cutting through.


mexican jazz 148


waiting for the snake skin to shed

we become the overall song that our mothers and fathers sang

they bled their names on this earth

with hands and feet and backs

and sweat

this mexico. this nuevo mexico.

this colonized land. whose native tongues

are drifting. getting stuck in dried cedar branches

pancho villa’s peoples came through here and devasted

indigenous land. devasted indigenas. raped and pillaged

indigenous blood. yaqui blood. tarumara . pueblo.

mexican hands pillaging their own red peoples

mexican hands full of red tainted blood.

we have killed over and over. each other.

brothers on top of brothers

killing and raping mothers and sisters

lost in this colonization

forgetting the blood trails before

anasazi . and other temples

rushed through all our bloods

migrating trails

migrating visions of where we have been

where we are going.

we cannot forget

how many times we have burned each other

we can never forget

the mud and blood on our hands

we have to wipe them clean

and build from here.

mexican jazz part 147 b

along the frontera the buried bodies

get buried under the undocumented sun

undocumented desert

these bones disappear

operation watergate

these uncles, fathers mothers, sons and daughter

bleed out the thirst

in the coldest of heats

in the buried shoes

buried parts of clothes

the buried dreams

mexican centro american

bones                     disappear

dreams             fade into the sand

bodies of the american landscape


mexican jazz part 146b

growing up mexican american in east los angeles

you forget sometimes that there are bigger racisms

in the world. or that the racisms are not part of the norm

its a complicated border cultura that comes in waves

whenever we crossed the border of east los angeles and

into monterey park. there was a very likely chance

that we were going to get pulled over. most definitely

told we fit the description of the vehicle they were looking for

but you get used to it. you get used to the harassment of getting

out of the car. whether it was a cadillac, honda, saab, toyota

it didn’t matter. you just so happened to always be inside the vehicle

they were looking for. but you don’t fight against it. you don’t say

anything . partly of course because you don’t want to make things

worse. but partly because you feel like. its annoying. and part of your life

nobody tells you this isn’t normal behavior. because its the normal

behavior we were used to facing in the barrio.

photo credit image

kristy lovich

words by

israel haros

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