Why Does an Angeleno Move to Silicon Valley?

I’m going on 5 years living in Silicon Valley. In this ridiculously overpriced, overhyped, overprotected, over-homogenous small town called Menlo Park. It feels like a five year old collar that has been shrinking, itching, suffocating the pure smog air that I miss from my dear LA. Why do I miss LA you ask? Why miss…More

American Dream

I want to climb big mountains with my brown bare feet gripping the dry earth skimming, propelling forward at lightspeed. But I live surrounded by hills that end in city dumps. I want to consume large quantities of knowledge so I read and read and read but I don’t know if I’m reading the right…More

Sunny Mountain

We’re laughing, quick hehehe’s and hahaha’s and silent cackles exploding inside Our front brown stoop steps are crowded Five Year olds shushing their baby sisters, rocking them in their arms. Lla, Lla, Sssshhh! Shhhhhh! Mami and Papis nowhere to be seen. The older girls resting their elbows on their knees, lounging, looking cool. Raising their…More

So soft

My Eyore among wolves. I wanted to kiss your cheekbones to see if their sharpness would cut me. How many time did I ask you to pull your ponytail off so I could admire your long silky hair? Psst. Mariiii. Psst. I heard you the first time but your soft voice was music to my…More

See Me Please

I’m wearing a cream chiffon dress. I look lovely. Should I dart in front of that truck? My tanned skin glistens in the sun, screaming Southern California health. Toned. Strong. The windows were open on our 15th floor lunchroom. They beckoned, strongly. I averted my eyes, blocking the windows out, the LA sunshine. Pretending everything…More

Bursting at the seams

I have many hands To Hold Me in Pull my corazon inside I have many faces portray only the goods ones only the logic and indisputable they will see But it keeps pouring out Like a boiling pot hissing steam So many hands To hold me In Cover my mouth Close my heart So many…More

An Old Man

I saw an old man and I wanted to cry. I see him everywhere, always surprising me. In the shade, hunched over, under a tree by the courtyard, looking small. Selling cookies at the Farmer’s Market. Quiet, drawn into himself, no customers. So I buy in abundance. Nothing I need with money I don’t have.…More

Memories of a Daughter of Immigrants

My father is an immigrant. He crossed the Mexico/US border as teenager, on his own, to find another life. My father is from a small, rural, town in Mexico. We live in Los Angeles, the second largest city in the country. The Second Largest City in the Country. His town’s population hovers around 1,000 people.…More

I Won’t Tell

I shouldn’t read Maya Angelou books With a knowing greed I tear through them waiting Waiting for the lurid secret revealed And as I devour the foul thing my insides expand and my breathing labors under the weight of it There’s a pressure from within pressing outward trying in vain to find release Who did…More

Howling to Emptiness

Aoooooooohhhhhhhhh!!!!!! I’m howling. But no one seems to hear. I’m hurting, but I don’t seem to feel. Madness. Self-serving, legitimate action, Stupidity, willful ignorance – who can tell the difference anymore. When I lashed out in pain at those who had voted for Trump I received admonishments from people who defended their reasoning, defended themselves…More