I was the first Chicano to write in complete sentences.
You can always spot bright people. They are reading a book.
It appears these days I don't have much of a life because my nose is often stuck in a book. But I discovered that reading builds a life inside the mind.
Because nothing should be wasted In a world where sparrows work hard To prove there is enough.
going back and forth, back and forth, getting nowhere
I drank that sentence and began to glow.
Dirt rolls from his palm, Blades of grass Tumble from his hair.
The black asphalt wouls shimmer with vapors I had a theory about those vapors...not released by the sun but by a huge onion buried under the city. This onion made us cry... I thought about the giant onion, that remarkable bulb of sadness.
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