Selected Poems          

                    

                              730 W Elsmere
                              San Anto
                              July 25, 1985


   I Know You by Your Smile-Filled Songs, Chinto


  I

  Jacinto-Temilotzín,
  you arrived
  within our lives
  when clouds
  kept the sun from view.

  your first cry
  broke
  up darkening patterns,
  a song wafted
  over our landscapes . . .

  II

  in Salt Lake City, Chinto, 
  you would pull me by the hand, 
  down Truman Avenue
  'til we could cross State; 
  inside that monument 
  to hectic Amerika,

  you would smile at the Denny's waitresses, 
  ask in song filled voice 
  for fries and a coke,
  never knowing
  that such places
  are usually anathema
  to my quests for beauty . . .

  III

  i recall those little books 
  you would make, 
  cutting papers
  into tiny one inch pages, 
  gluing them together, 
  and then writing 
  miniature verses 
  and childhood caricatures; 
  joyously did i read you 
  as i saw images dance 
  through your smile-filled 
  serenades to life . . .

  IV

  i know you, Chinto, 
  through your human delicacy, 
  as your inquisitive senses 
  peruse all notions of the universe, 
  I know your anxious voice 
  wafting
  through bookstores and galleries, 
  your smile floats
  about books and paintings, 
  your voice demanding 
  of countless poets 
  to proclaim 
  a beauty beyond the ken
  of societal keepers of the keys;
  I know you through a lovefilled family, 
  you running about 
  sweaty and juvenile 
  caring only about enjoyment, 
  asking serious questions 
  about death and heart attacks, 
  digging into familial lore 
  with a pungent seriousness 
  caught somewhere between 
  a daring laughter
  and a joyous hope for understanding . . .

  V

  more than just know you, Chinto, 
  I sense you everywhere 
  as you explore Paperbacks . . . ¡y más!, 
  nine year old wizard, 
  you take customers by the hand 
  and then convince some 
  to buy the things
  you feel are valuable . . . 

  VI

  there probably is no need 
  to tell you or your sister 
  that you are loved, nor 
  need we remind Rikárd 
  that he, too, is loved, 
  you three know 
  the power of embraces 
  as well as the beauty 
  of familial kisses-we 
  only say it
  because it is our greatest truth, 
  the only truth worth knowing 
  is the one bespeaking love . . . 
  still, Chinto, I must again admit 
  that i love
  that you which
  swims in smile-filled songs. . . .