Orange que te quiero verde, that's Poeticah
The Visual Poetry of Poeticah explores the boundaries between poetry, languages, and traditional with computer visual art.
This is a poem from my chapbook Axtlanadu.
Where the Spirit of Aztlán Roars
The Supreme Spirit directs me
To Mexico City, when it was an island on a lake.
An eagle, perched on prickly pears, devours a serpent.
An earthquake swallows the eagle and water.
Smoke covered buildings bury pyramids and trees.
An avocado tree grows from a grand Aztec calendar.
Its fruit strengthens my creek.
Will Aztlán thunder up my roots?
The Great Spirit leads me
To a forest by azure waters, in pre-Columbian
Nayarit. Great silver herons swim toward me,
Spray my eyes, disappear in the ocean.
Gray brittle arteries strangle part of the forest.
The water appears clearer and irresistible.
It refreshes and purifies my river.
Can Aztlán sing through the water?
The Divine Spirit carries me
To Texas, near the Rio Grande in the sixties.
Farm workers, proud of their Indian heritage,
Carry red banners, with a carbon eagle
In an ivory circle. The workers evaporate.
A grand huisache tree replaces them.
The aroma of its orange flowers stirs my river.
Did the air just whisper Aztlán?
The Mighty Spirit throws me
Across the Bering Strait, around the world
To prehistoric Africa. A vermilion flame charms me.
Stars more stars deplete the crimson wind.
I saw the greatest fire on earth, rejoiced
In the heavens of that Powerful Being.
Now my river floods and burns.
Does the fire cry Aztlán?
The dreams of every race mingle with earth, water, air, fire.
Someday, our streams will merge with moonlight,
Spraying diamond grains.