Welcome students and colleagues, friends and family, if you have made it this far, I encourage you to stay a bit longer and read into some of my work. The writings reflect many of the thoughts that I carry with me throughout the course of a day, evening, and often times, the dreams that take hold of me while I sleep. The verses represent the inner voice in me that speaks of the past, the present, and the future. Writing is my ultimate form of expression, an art form that allows me to reflect, inspire, heal, and grow. The energy that feeds my work, I pull from themes that correspond to Mesoamerica, my ancestral homeland, and the area I research as an academic. References to ancient symbols, deities, and natural phenomenon, dominate certain pieces, and blend with contemporary verses of life, love, and death. I have never taken a writing class; the only "style" that exhibits my work is the one that I create from my imagination, heart, and dreams.

I’m also an avid builder and gardener, and so I spend a lot of my time building things and growing different types of fruits and vegetables. The art of working with wood I learned from my father, by watching him design and build homes throughout much of my adolescent youth. I also learned how to work with stone by watching my uncles construct brick and rock landscapes, in the wealthy neighborhoods were they were contracted to work during much of the 1980s, when construction was booming. My father’s dad (my grandpa Juan), was also a craftsman, hence why all his sons became builders of some sort, and so building has always been an integral part of my family’s art and trade history. I learned about plant cultivation from my abuelita Mercedes on my paternal side, and my abuelito Severo on my maternal side. Much of the landscaping strategies that I learned from my grandparents were brought from Mexico when they migrated to California, in the early 1960s, along with my parents. A lot of the building and gardening strategies that my family has implored have been in use for over 3,000 years, since the rich days of Mesoamerica, and in essence, it is my purpose to preserve these ancient and ancestral practices.

My fascination with building and gardening is not only cultural, but also physical, and because so, I have an admiration for the morphology of the human hand. The hand is unlike any part of the body, and because we use our hands everyday, we literally take them for granted, sometimes failing to notice their full potential use. Our hands are our first weapons of choice in an attack, yet they are the first part of the body that we extend when helping or consoling someone. With our hands we build shelter, writer letters, prepare food, and unknowingly, make love. Our hand-digit coordination is unique because it is absolutely precise, well adapted for creating, and for using and making tools. Hand-digit use coordination has been a part of our human evolutionary past since we inhabited arboreal environments, way before we developed bipedalism. When combined with tool use, the creative use of the hands has the capability of decolonizing our minds and bodies.

To be continued…

Serpientes emplumadas

No sabias que las plumas
de mi cuerpo son agujas hipodérmicas…
Pobre de ti sentirás puñales venenosas
dieciocho años.

Quiero que sepas que mi derrota
me hace feliz… Y que no hay curación
pa' lo que siento por ti.

Así como tu me siento
inmortal. Asi como tu voy al castigar
el amor de un pasado,
vas a ver…

Serpientes emplumadas son
malas. Ilusiones que paralizan la vida.
Estoy enamorado con los
colmillos de mi boca.

Vas a sentir múltiple
mordeduras de dos por todo el cuerpo,
múltiple muertes vas a sentir
por cada amor.

Ni quien te salve… no conoces
el amor… tus huesos se van a podrí…
y vas a sufrir.

Veras mi fuerza en las repisas de
tus armarios… en los espejos de tus
baños… y de noche cuando
duermas en tu cama.

Se me salió el veneno… y
no tengo la culpa… Tu salida me crió
sentimientos nunca expresados

Serpientes emplumadas son malas.

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