000 Un lenguaje extraño ooooooPara mi primo Cornelio Córdova, de Chamisal, NM Hay gentes en este mundo, Primito, no me ha de creer Que al hombre le llaman Man, Y Woman a la mujer. 00 No sé dónde aprenderían Un lenguaje tan extraño, Pues al mes le llaman Month Y le llaman Year al año. […]
POESÍAS de José Inés García, “El Trobador Moderno”
by Jose Inés García
Locked Up in the Mind and Other Vignettes
by Sonia Gutiérrez
She lost him before she even knew it. Tía Alicia lost her son, cousin Beto, to the letters carved on his stomach, the size of freeway signs, announcing cities and streets from far away distances. With those drawings under his clothes and skin, he relived the beatings that echoed in his memory, like the lighter burning the melting brown rock on a spoon, easing the pain only he felt. Too much trippin’ locked primo Beto up in the mind, like the hamster that overfeeds itself and doesn’t know how to stop eating—and dies. But primo Beto didn’t die. He’s locked up in the mind and behind bars.