The Corps -  Two Happy Left Feet
(This work is still in progress.)

They call it Peace
but there is rarely
for my home
to shift and di
beneath and 
from inside me.

I find no silence
between my 
private spanglish
dialogues on
identity and the 
frenzied flapping
banner sounds my
resolve makes as

tied to the gently
shifting pillar of
my soul

it snaps
in the roaring winds
of political static and
the sleet of loaded
and empty promises
as swells of swaggers
and shrugs give way 
to tides of eyes that
lap at my ankles 
and work their way 

In this torrent,
my stripes do 
But just because
I haven't killed some
doesn't mean I haven't 
served my country
because my boarder
doesn't stop
at Texas
and my passion doesn't 
what a passport is..

Foreign winds may
cause me to swell
with pride and
curious currents
carry me higher.
In persistent turbulence
I loose my teather
and frayed edges
give way to feathers
where uncoordinated flapping
becomes driven

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    Ever since I was little I have enjoyed playing with words.  I recently went through some of my old journals (which I have been keeping since my freshman year of high school) and dug up some of my favorites.  Some of them I revised a little, and some I left as is.  Not all of the sentiments still ring true, but it is an interesting experience for me to reread and share them.  It's a little like opening an old letter from someone you haven't talked to in ages.  I am still writing plenty and I'm sure that there will be more poems and essays about my current experiences here soon.  Buen provecho!


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