literature

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Literature Text

night deals in el barrio with the stygian stroke of a spanish gitana turning life over to blind draws bent by bombs blown on brick sores still burning out our eyes now: empty barrels before: monolithic rivers losing Esperanza to streets weaving schemes by hands that mumble in a twilight tongue. click-clack
a glock cocks before a pop lays her on the block. she lies on a concrete slab bartering broken breaths for memories at different terminals of a Tianguis forking endlessly toward a horizon suspending the last sun in abeyance while el barrio circles the red inkblot that baptizes a moon conjuring flashes of la noche triste as Nanahuatzin siphons the blood flowing along the banks on 6th
st. then sprays it off a bedrock tip; shrewd whispers find an occult palette
and trace out the memories through a seething red. color fumbles in the dark but daybreak illuminates the aerosol dreams of a wandering tagger that feeds the sun humanity. still-life in the streets mirrors the desolation of a thousand moons ago when paint was just pain before the cross.
© 2014 - 2024 xelicit
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riverwrists's avatar
this is so visceral, the opening of the second paragraph could be a tongue twister. your vocabulary is intense and captivating :o