To an Unborn Daughter

-for Hilary

You’re only a thought I now

impress onto your mom.

My fingers write your name

on her skin. With slight pressure,

I inscribe I M O G E N

across her stomach.

Who knew we willed you to life?

Now, you’re on the way,

and it’s never too early to start.

I kiss your mom’s distended belly

and whisper Ramona will be

your new name. You will be smarter

than we. And with that, I write poems

to you. Your mom sings.

You kick in accord.

Then, there were complications.

Now, you’re again a thought

impressed in our souls. Your mom

and I feel your name on our lips,

bellies and fingers. Imogen.

Ramona. How can we call you?

How could we forget?

Castroville, Texas (October 13, 2011)

I.
In the basement where Germans
brewed beer stored in small kegs,
you can now buy carved icons,
New Mexican incense and Oaxaca wallets.

II.
Upstairs, a man sells venison sausage,
which he pairs with Wisconsin smoked
gouda and imported Norwegian Jarlsberg.

III.
Besides the Château, city hall deals
with public disturbances. The drunks
climb the historic fire escape for a slide.
The town is not impressed.

IV.
Up two blocks, pecans fall
around the square. Nature's
offering.

V.
At the Old Alsatian Steakhouse
& Ristoriante, the veal piccata
is highly recommended.

Punishment

For using the word "trespassing" in the thesis and
justifying its usage during the presentation the professor-
from BYU not UTSA
me this angry note
Find a poet from India,
and write a 6 7 page
in mauve crayon
Due at my office
between 5-7

While Listening to Monk

she slips easily in
between the notes.
But the silence!

Now that's noisy.

he falls into silence.
Wanders for days.

Thelonious listens to himself.
Fingers on keys, waiting...

The pause is long-a hundred
batons crack his skull again-
even for him.

He pushes onto the next note.

The Poetics of Jokes: Zombies

I.

Have you ever thought about zombie attacks?

I have.

And I decided that if there were a zombie infestation,

I would just go with it.

We already live in a world that accepts the undead—Rob Zombie,

Cannibal Corpse, Nancy Grace—

and if we learned anything from the Thriller video,

the undead make great dancers.

Except the white ones;

not even death can fix their groove.

II.

Zombies don’t actually want to pick

your brains. They’re just looking for love.

But the way they go about finding love

is appalling. They’re too touchy feely.

Saturday Morning at Rimkus Park

-Leon Valley, Texas

    Catch iiiiiiiiiiiiiit!!!

rang through the air,

and a scramble ensued

            three players converging

                 where the leather

                        ball might

                              fall…

No one catches it,

and the whole field

erupts into laughter

and  its first language.

The dark players, dressed in polos

and trainers, reset, and focus

on the duel. One stands

tall, the protectorate, a flat

bat defending three long sticks.

The other, a few paces back,

gathers speed, and hurls

the projectile. The ball takes

one bounce before reaching

the batter.

I must hit the ball merges and contrasts with Only one wicket.

The batter wins, and the ball

rises to a chorus of Catch iiiiit!!!

And I’m on the outside,

foreign to both game and language,

leaning by the sign

For Baseball

and Softball

use only.

Unspoken

Unspoken

            -for “Bob Roberston”

A fistful of words

slipped through their fingers, never

to reach the others.

Who is this man, this Stranger

who played both sides for money?

A pocketwatch chimes

as Mortimer, and Manco

and El Indio

wait for the finish—the start

of the silence which will chime.

Just a name would do,

but he is Blondie, and now

Angel Eyes, Tuco,

and he face off, a fifteen

minute Mexican standoff.