early moring breakfast 
                             fragmenting hungover 
                             lethargy, questions 
                             about my heritage abound, 
                             they want some poetry 
                             about my people's revolution 
                             i want tomato juice & lemon 
                             with a bit of pepper, salt, 
                             & hair of the pinche dog 
                             nipping at my brain's 
                             nerve endings ...
                             Hotel Van Ostade 16 Sept. 78

    y con un grito


             y con un grito
             fuertemente
             se declaró
     over a hundred years ago plus sixty
  that México,
     tierra of índios y mestizos,
  would cast
  the horrid yoke
  of spanish patronismo
  off its neck ...

  Hildago
  with his grito de dolores
  shouted:
          ¡Viva México
                y viva la Independencia! 
  arriba pueblo mexicano, 
  down with spain
  and its gacho gachupines pinches, 
  con estoque y cañonazo, 
  a fiery mestizo nation 
  arose out of hispanic exploitation, 
  fire, smoke, and carnage 
  marked the land,
      for the first time
  would indio and mestizo
  share a world
  where zapotecas

  could become 
  wise and revered leaders over all, 
  ay, no longer 
  in México, it was felt, 
  would los razgos bronceados 
  be a condemnation, 
  not realizing then 
  that within 20 pinche years 
  another invader
  llamado gringo 
  would also come 
  in ruthless thirst for conquest, 
  to cut querido México 
  into two
  gargantuan slices 
  of putrefying quasi-living, 
  ripping off the land,
  raping mestizo
                culture/language;
  born in shards
  of what had been, 
  chicanos would arise 
  from the ashes 
  of genocidic mania; 
  hunted down, haunted, 
  enslaved, & racistly oppressed, 
  we live now 
  awaiting that sacred moment 
  when with whatever 
  we can muster 
  we can realize 
  another 16th day of Independence,.
  when mestizos shall re-arise 
  to liberate themselves 
  and cast the yoke 
  of gringo/yanqui 
  oportunismo opresivo 
  off our necks,

  we shall
  a sovereign people be, 
  un grito of awareness

  shall lurch
  in canto hello
  to our humanness,
        ¡Que mueran los opresores, 
        que viva la Raza de Aztlán, 
        y que toda gente goce libertad!

                              tourist boat, cruise 
                              canals & hear rioplina words, 
                              arteries of commerce-
                              for former slavemasters ...
                              late afternoon 16th Sept.

             boating
  on canals, just heard
  the news,
             Muhammed Ali won!

  feel joyful
  that
       that political warhorse
            of boxing
  has again set
  the world
  on its ear,

  strong, sinewy blackman 
  who dared to laugh 
  at draft boards, 
  dared the might 
  of Christian masters, and 
  resolutely did resolve 
  to strongly stand and fight,

  not one to be content 
  with being the gringo's nigger, 
  ¡no!, Muhammed Ali is a man 
  who thinks and feels 
  that he was born to be a man 
  and not a thing, 
  never was bought,

  he stated his beliefs
  and waged a holy war
      for human rights,

  ay, felt good to hear
  that he regained his title,
  for he was more than boxing, 
       he was waging war 
       on a United States Marine 
  another little rabbit
  with the insipidness of Patterson ...