there are borders in the tongue in the mouth
in the way we approach all the conditions that were placed
in front of us behind us . to the sides of us
we are mexican american waiting to be reborn under
a chicano sun? a rasquache sun? a pale mexican moon?
there are blood lines and blood ties to all the lands
all the way back to even before africa.
this border of refugees. these songs of tomorrow
singing in the dust of our humanity. singing in the conditions
that we are the mexican american dream
un suen~o de la vida. donde las realidades nos cuestan
mas que la cuenta son nuestra herencia. culmudada
gathering in the stones the mortar and the brick of american paradigms