☀ Today's Poem: "13 Ways of Nepantla" Fernando Trujillo

I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three blackbirds.
—Wallace Stevens

[1]
Throats thick with tobacco and mezcal.
Reverberations of violence,
ecstasies and transformations.
Sizzle of nopales on the grill.

[2]
Roaming downtown EP after the OP,
full of drink and the taste of men—
noche de ronda, frightening awake
a black dove before dawn.

[3]
En el instante of being
in two lands
tocayo
was it loss you felt?
Does a body crossing
mark across the body?

[Chorus]
América America,
brazos de agua
swinging from the boughs—
del aire al aire the
varied carols I hear—

[4]
Tía abuela Ñeca rolls out rising
balls of dough in Arizona,
tortillas off the comal,
dozens of fresh empanadas laid
out for the sticky fingers of a child
who pledges allegiance to a flag
each day in school.

[5]
Along the railroad track
one foot in front of
the other on the rusted out
rail beneath Mt Cristo Rey,
pennies laid out, waiting
for the thrill of a roiling
tingle as the train rushes by,
flattening what
was worth so little
to him.

[6]
A penny saved
is a penny less of frijoles
for dinner,
Tencha states,
slaving over a stovetop,
getting a college degree.

[7]
Young flesh
Friday night in Juárez,
delicious cumbia raíz
off her hips,
the beat shakes—
Lupe cutting
up the dance floor.

[Chorus]
América America,
brazos de agua
swinging from the boughs—
del aire al aire the
varied carols I hear—

[8]
Sauce de cristal-formed timestone in the sun
-old capital, son of Aztec and colonizer
holding out a hand to touch its edge. Chingado nieto
de La Malinche reaching up to grasp for the meaning
of blood hating blood in one vein.

[9]
I don’t like spics, says the brown boy
sitting at an overlook on Transmountain,
I like that you look white;
or,
I don’t know why they sent her,
the boss says,
I’ve already met my quota.

[10]
On a cliffside bus,
Veinte poemas in his lap,
condor lazing among the
heights above Iruya.

[Chorus]
América America,
brazos de agua
swinging from the boughs—
del aire al aire the
varied carols I hear—

[11]
A home made in
the pass between the mountains.

[12]
A 3 coo-weaved-counterpoint
at odds and in harmony,
refusing to be caged.

[13]
She sings
sing to me, cántame.
But I tell myself it really means
sing me to me.
Make of me a song.

[Chorus]
América America,
brazos de agua
swinging from the boughs—
del aire al aire the
varied carols I hear—

Author's Notes:
1. The title/structure is inspired by, and the epigraph is from,
Wallace Stevens’s “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.”
2. “del aire al aire the / varied carols I hear” is from Pablo Neruda’s
“Alturas de Macchu Picchu” and Walt Whitman’s “I Hear America Singing.”
3. “Sauce de cristal” is from Octavio Paz’s “Piedra de sol.”