Friday, March 28, 2008

Carta de Huitzilopochtli a J. S. B., con Humildad

Every day you have to know I’m up here
On the banks of the Greater Miami fighting
The gringos: I am one of those men
You called forth in one of your poems. And because
I live so close to them, I can taste their greed when I eat,
When I break bread at daylight, sitting
In a clapboard dutch-roofed farmhouse
That overlooks the oak-lined street.

Listen: this morning I drove my son
To school. I thought of the war, I looked
In vain for any other dark haired heads
Like mine stumbling through this wicked
Part of Ohio I never imagined in my little
Desert home. My son’s eyes tell me I am there
And otherwise a part of a greater nomadic urge—
To leave the Chihuahuan wastelands forever in search of water.

1 comment:

William D. (Rick) Razo said...

Dear Albino Carrillo,

I am a friend of Darrell Dillon's and Chuck Pike's. We worked together at the Albuquerque Alley Theatre Southwest in the 80's. Chuck said you might want to share some info on Darrell as we are working on a project that contains Darrell's writings. I would very much like his writing to be published somehow. I would like any details you or your brother might have about Darrell and his vida loco. I do have a blog, but it is not the best place to reach me. Email : . Please do not broadcast this to anyone but your brother or other people that would be helpful to the project. Thanks so much for your time.