Sleepless Night In Stockton

                                                       1.

After work in America

in traffic

the rush

the noise 

the smog

the elements of urbanization

digested as a I drive

and sullen I arrive

slip into my apartment

precision an about-face

and bolt in place

number-Twelve door shut

out the world

a world of worlds

weaving in wrangled

star-spangled waste

whirlin’ and churnin’ in  

a self-destructive celebrated way

out the quagmire of

civil-I-zation

rush hour

road-rage

flip-me-off

bullshit

intoxicated and nauseated

by the animated

absurdities of it.

No child smiles flutter lovingly

arms racing ahead of them

to affectionately embrace me home.

Only the split-second entry

vacuum of variable musty

silence’s say: HELLO.

Then all of a sudden

as if by a push of an invisible button

resonates it’s fate once more:

This sorry sigh of resignation,

truly I abhor.

                2.

And now

I filter into unwinding

easing these insensitive

ribbon strands

of twitchin’ glands

varieties of mind-blowin’ 

soul-suckin’

spirit-chompin’

anxieties

plopped out on a couch

in this sublime rhyme

of coagulated time

de-polorized in a hapless

humorless

hermitic pose,

self-imposed by whimsical desire

I  suppose.

               3.

And now

in the heat of night I articulate

a winding road of prose

paved with deep fried

figments of  imagination

drawn from a cauldron

bubblin’ in my stupored sanity

where scattered embers of reality

melodramatically

gyrate

irate

in the echoing forest

of my inquisitiveness .

                          4.

For now

for the tick-tock being

I whirl

unfurl

in this empirical space

hollowed in grace

for this Is

the way of existencia

the truth my friend

as is should be

as is meant to be

this place

this center

of my world

a spot

a dot

like nowhere else

for the tick-tock being

in this whole vast

unchained universe

my world is here.

So I

unwinding

cherish my soul

so as not to perish from

these incandescent

meticulous

melancholy moments

soothing this bronze mechanism

of my cosmic conscious being

as my translucent thoughts

unravel

travel

across borders of imagination

and journey into thorny

thickets of perennial poetic hours

bloomin’ brilliant

like shades of wild flowers

silences irrevocably

lonely

yet lovely

lovely to their very cores

lovely as waves splash

a lonely islands shores

regions rich and ripe to explore

but only yours-truly there may soar.

                        5.

And I transfix

void of tricks

and soar-----wing    

              soar-----wing,

and nobody talks trash

and no phone rings

shing-a-ling 

     shing-a-ling

and no amor sings:   

Love love me do.

                6.            

Unamused

but not confused

dedicated I transfuse

into fuses of San Joaquin

cool Delta breezes

bleeding profusely

through kitchen screen

gently on me

and pitter-patter poignantly

plastic blinds

like chimes

and sequestered here

most definitely

but not vividly I see

the years 

Fifty:

bounced

cruised

crashed

and in this solitude

with gratitude and fortitude

I remember

my grandparents

father

mother

relations 

homies

alive in photos

thumb-tacked

taped 

packed-on

DON’T FORGET US walls

Who congregate

celebrate

in heavens hallowed halls

who joyfully converse

in golden silent verse

who dance tiptoe

on rose petal plains

Yaqui angels

swarm like cranes,

Who knew     

Them?

Their struggles 

their insanities

their dreams

their sorrows?

their lifetime-agos  

dreamed-for

labored-for

prayed-for 

better-tomorrows

never in their

dimensions fulfilled?       

Them    

their hopes and phantasms

Them     

indigenous rightful

landlords of this soil

Them     

exploited 

thwarted,

who struggled

celebrated

prisms of tradition

and cried tears of dignity

and died

warriors

revolutionaries

railroad

dishwasher

field

cannery hands

barbers 

butchers 

artists

musicians

carpenters

tune-up kings

chicken pluckers

agriculture queens

herb runners

locos and locas

juicers and outlaws

farmers 

charmers

nickel and dimers?

                         7.

And now

One- two- three

Yes  

I am perplexed

And yes 

still I wrestle

a desperate battle 

with the spirits to inquire

to inspire

to address this nonsense

and the rest

and my simple thoughts

find themselves

in travail and

pow-wow in circles

in the wombs of their thunder

and meander

twigs down

sacred crimson rivers

flowing with age

searchin’  

searchin’ 

searchin’

always searchin’

and the spirits responses

wade in glitters of shimmerin’

reflections of splendor

and wonder:

Not yet for you to know.

                              8.      

And now

I explore above the heights

a hawk and circle

fields of the variety

the make-up 

the essences  

Of who      I AM

Of what     I AM

Of where   I AM

Of why      I AM

 A Yaqui/Tarascan

maneuvering in this

reservation of modern-I-zation

everyday a battle

everyday a struggle

everyday a warrior.

For who I am

has not   

can not 

shall never 

by the world be conquered

for this is inherently

in me

a cosmic impossibility

a dreamer

descendent of a dream

from long windin’

ancestral stream

of all but forgotten 

ancient crossings .

                          9.

In retrospect

I detect

a wee-bit 

isolated conflict:

Oh!  What a crazy life!

Rollin-rollin-rollin’

keep them fires burnin’  AHO!

                   10.

And now

the sun rises 

bright bold

above a naked flagpole

it’s glow melts the sky

a pretty shade of flame

fingers through

the window pane

caresses my face

swallows the moon

and glittering robe of stars

and the Delta breezes 

cease to bleed

and although dawn

spawns tranquil

sweet 

invigorating 

alive

my eyes

care less 

weigh a ton and flutter

like hummingbird wings

and my hued

cosmic conscious being

implores

requires

repose

and this beautiful morning   

I’ll nap away

ride a spotted winged pony

across dream world plains.

And now I do

what I do

hold back that

no storm

ravages or savages

introspective

reflective

twin mirrors

of my soul

but in the hollows

of my battered

bruised

betrayed

bronzed heart

RAINS FIRE!

                   11.

Quiet

subdued

but not unglued

humbly I say

these words to THEE:

I sing 

I pray

my pen shall bring

to wing

simple understanding

that the world may know

we may remember

we passed  these roads

these codes

these loads

we lived Aho!

                           12.

So now

I shut the blinds

cozy-up on the couch

turn the FM on low

catch some  z’s.