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.
Some folks find it hard to savor me.
Frijoles a la charra with too much,
Or not enough cilantro;
Salsa that burns,
Or has no zip;
A margarita that's wimpy,
Or kicks too hard.
When I was a kid some called me a gringo.
Then the Tejano sun cooked
This raw half-tortilla, half-bread
Into a golden tortbread.
My English is sometimes partly roasted.
More often my Spanish is hardly grilled and too bland.
I'm caught between a well-cooked fajita and rare steak.
I like them both but know how it feels
In the world between them.
I saw Selena on the Christina show.
Selena said, "Diez y cuatro," for fourteen.
Christina answered, "No. Catorce."
Selena's blush radiated from the TV,
Entered my blood, shot to my brain,
And triggered a memory from my college days:
I was on a bus with a Mexican girl;
Making my move, I talked to her
In my barely grilled Spanish.
She laughed at this Chicano-Anglo