that´s not the door
those are the floorboards groaning... 

y oigo el sur llamandome 

El aullar agudo de los vivos internos
Canto subcontinental... ese coro santisimo de perro callejero guerillero chaman envuelto en oja de
     coca y selva verde mojada obscura 
(mi sueño amazonico)
alli... 
junto a una piedra tallada con sal de fuego
estoy empezando a entender... 
que alli, en ese adentro interno me espera alguien
Algo

in that internal inside synaptic thereness 
a memory
of there, 
nexto to a stone polished with fire & salt 
a howling was born three million grandmothers ago... 
our subcontinental siren song
(our creed)
here, inside i guard genetic mappings to our holy choir of guerrillero street dog shamans, 
     wrapped in coca leaves & green wet jungle darkness 
sudamerica...  
here, inside, below the equator, we wait 
for the north to rust 

not buying bibles today...
stay off my porch
we are not lacking anything here
we got powdered milk and plenty of batteries
& a double barrel pointed...
with steady hands
they are looking cross eyed
stand down wind, and you can smell how cross eyed we got'm
squirming, i tell you
squirming;
not even like worms tho, cuz worms till the earth tenderly
rotate minerals
dance in darkness softly praying for our souls...

In Revolution We Must All Be Worms

looking for truth distracts
smell out truth with your gut, instead
looking is for the birds, who eat worms, who would otherwise, till the our earth tenderly
mourn our worms
hawks will eat our livers, the minute we buy thier hashtag

In Revolution We Must All Be Worms
when everyone else wants to be a hawk
you be a worm,
that's how we win...

underwhelm,
rise up from below the grassline
revolt from the back toolshed
in the shade
we do not need to outbullet anyone
just be fucking quiet
stay off the cameras (unless you're breaking a camera) or, pointing a camera like a double barrel,
at them... othewise, stay off  the media grid
just be fucking quiet
don't put out a press release everytime you have an existential itch,
or, you doubt our neighbor, sister, brother, family
that's the capitalist whispering sweet sounding bullshit in your ear...

(Stop Selling Lynch Rope to White Capitalists)

stay low to the ground
burrow earth quietly along prehistoric lines
renew petrified volcano fault lines deep underground
be fucking quiet
& lovely, like a revolutionary worm tilling earth tenderly
useful

Morning Tweets from Mexico City

last night i learned, que las manos del Che had been cut off post mordem. Por ordenes de un hijo de puto Boliviano
--

I´m not a pacifist. no one alive in this snake pit can be a pacifist i have a bullet necklace with 30 bullets Also, 1 billion brain cells
--

for every trinket, tweet, or dollar bill you accept & lick, or, senate seat you win, know one of your brothers is getting skinned alive
--

why, so easily impressed, by them? Surprize them, instead
--

never be grateful not to them...

--
we do not have to out-bullet anyone. we can out-smart them.

--

"Border Crisis". NOT a border crisis. Somone, please shut down the fucking euphemism machine. It's Human Brutality

Come Corazones

Pues aquí deslizando 

               aceite de coco 

                         sobre mis humildes escamas 

                                   de sirena iguana cocodrila... 

Cocodrillera claridividente me siento aquí
interpretando mitos y sueños sobre sombra y pared y garabato
Pero a estas paredes que les importa...
Aquí las paredes, a puro pincel y sharpie abrazan y aprietan a cualquiera... 
     culto sujeto catedrático 
          licenciado 
               turista o insecto --

Sí 
a estas paredes les da igual
angel o diablo
toda carne sabe igual... 

 
Ah, porque sí 
no sé si les he dicho, que las paredes
aquí, 
también muerden a filo de diente y a todo color   
Burlescas paredes también, diría yo... 

         riza 

               duelo 

                        horror  

Todo se vale aquí, con este bendito humor Mexicano lacrimógeno  
-- Lo que va a vencer al Gringo un dia --

 
Y yo
Melancólica profesional 
marimbera mal pagada
sigo en pie y sonámbula caminando a péndula cadera, 
     contra cadera coqueteando revolucion
 -- mis espadas emplumadas de azúcar procesada--   
y leyendo profecías profanas entre grieta y gozo de hormiga... 

 
Porque más que no quiera, la verdad es que me sigo 
mascando el corazon aquí, como chicle, entre diente y lengua
Mientras que Oaxaca...
Oaxaca
Alejibre bestial bella
Oaxaca me traga enterita, sin dejar un solo hueso o huella  

...