THE WORLD IS FULL OF SIGNS

"The stars are like letters that inscribe
themselves at every moment in the sky.
Everything in this world is full of signs.
All events are coordinated. All things 
depend on each other. Everything 
breathes together."  Greek philosopher, Plotinus

THE WORLD IS FULL OF SIGNS

"I can't breathe,
I can't breathe,
I can't breathe,
I can't breathe,"

Eric Garner's last
breath, words,
words, breath,
father, husband, son

no longer breathes
no longer breathes
no longer breathes
or speaks or laughs

or calls his children's
names or sings his
favorite songs in the 
shower, or speaks

softly to his wife
or laughs with her
or argues with her,
his breath is gone,

his words are gone,
his mother's memory,
first breath,
first words,

yes, everything breathes
together, all things depend on
each other, all events are 
coordinated, everything in the

world is full of signs,
and we can't breathe,
we can't breathe, we
can't breathe, we

can't breathe
freely, the stars are like
letters that inscribe themselves
at every moment in the sky,

we can't breathe
freely, we can't,
everything, every thing
breathes, yes, breathes

together.


Eric Garner murdered in an illegal
chokehold, July 12, 2014. 
**Mike Brown, 18- Tamir Rice, 12- 
Trayvon Martin, 17...all unarmed

Alma Luz Villanueva (c)
San Miguel de Allende, Mexico
December 2014
Everything breathes together...

 

HANDS

I've arrived, the peak
of my life, so many
hands have carried me
here, loving hands,

brutal hands,
soothing hands,
stinging hands,
healing hands,

the hands that caught
my four children emerging
from my pulsing vulva,
the hands that sang

to every inch of my
body, the hands I
shielded myself from,
fought back,

my warrior hands,
my mother hands,
my lover hands,
my daily hands,

these blessed hands
that care for me
without question,
without reward,

these hands that
love me,
these hands that
feed me,

these hands that
bathe me,
these hands that
dream me whole

nightly, daily,
I kiss each
hand, left and
right, these

hands that guide
my way into this
wondrous world, this
terrible world, this

loving world, this
killing world, this
exquisite world of
so many 

hands, this
moment I
kiss each
one.

*On tripping, hair line fracture, 
my precious right hand I'm 
writing this poem with, my 
fingers taped together, still 
able to move, write, type for
short periods but getting better.
And on turning 7+0... esta vida.

Alma Luz Villanueva (c)
San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

GRACIAS for the private emails, 
feel free to post here, add a poem
if la spirit moves you. Now, pause
to kiss both of your beloved hands.

Below photo, giving La Finger in the best, most loving way- Barcelona, 10/14...Vampire Girl behind me made me do it.

SCAFFOLDS OF (YOUR) VISION

Gracias, Gaudi,
your dreams,
your vision,
your vow

of poverty
to create
such richness,
the humble greatness

of your Spirit
flows, pierces
all humanity,
all gods, goddesses,

all names,
same source,
Great Spirit,
all mountains,

forests, creeks, rivers,
sacred lakes,
sacred seas,
sacred trees

breathing air,
bearing fruit,
sacred fields,
our Mother's body

feeds us, you, us,
marries Earth/Sky,
Sun/Moon,
Winter/Spring,

love/hate/love
dreaming us, Her
Womb, this 
sacred beauty

you created 
for us, I
hear your
sweet laughter,

your life
well spent
in riches,
fever of

dreams, voice,
song, your
daily heart,
young men

still climb the
scaffolds of
your vision,
laughing as

they build
your dream,
sacred sunlight,
well muscled,

pregnant women,
running children, 
those in wheel
chairs, we

enter your
sunlight stained
glass rainbow
dream womb

Earth Sky
dream, I hear
your daily heart
alive, undying,

your sweet 
laughter, tears,
surprise, last
breath, the streets,

metal trolley, your body,
dead, dream, daily heart
undying laughter/vision/light,
gracias, Gaudi. Gracias. 

Barcelona, Spain...October 2014
Alma Luz Villanueva (c)

WISDOM

A child was sliced in
half in Palestine, I
saw the photo, wondering 
if he could be put back

together, I wanted more
than anything to put 
him back together, his
four year old head, torso,

his still baby-like 
legs, bare feet, curled
as though to spring to
life, laughing at any

moment, the bloody
torso, the bloody
baby-like legs, bare
feet, his mother will

not ever hear the sweet
ring of his laughter,
from four to manhood,
his bitter tears unshed-

a child was sliced in
half in Palestine today,
among so many children,
the wisdom of Solomon

could not save him, no
love strong enough to 
say, yell, scream, "Here,
take him, let him

live, let him live whole,
intact, alive, do not
slice my beloved child
in half, let him

live!" Wisdom. 

To the children in Palestine,
the children crossing the USA
borders alone, being returned to
danger. Into the Sixth Sun...

Alma Luz Villanueva (c)  August 2014

CHILD

Child of the ancestors,

Goddess, Gods,

queens and kings,

child of dreaming,

myth, wisdom,

pyramids, stone by

stone,

child of visionary

poet kings,

Sor Juana,

child of storytellers

and singers, Octavio

Paz, Rosario Castellanos,

child of perfect

beauty, Frida Kahlo, 

Diego Rivera, on the

500 peso bill,

child of Quetzalcoatl

and Xochiquetzal, la

madre Coatlique, 

great IxChel,

child of Sun and

Moon, every Star,

born to Earth/Sky,

child in tattered clothing,

worn, dirty shoes,

toes exposed, trying to

sell a useless

coupon,

the shiny, abundant

super market, the

blonde woman shakes

her head in disgust,

you beg, eyes

pleading,

hunger, comfort, bath,

clean clothes, some

safety, even love, a

hawk-eyed teen

watches you,

bullies you,

not to stop

begging, pleading,

your useless

coupon,

your brown

dirty hand, 

child of the ancestors, 

would the great poet

king, Nezahualcoyotl,

sing a poem to

you, child of 

despair and

hunger, filth,

your eyes still

shadowed with 

innocence.

                                                         

 Alma Luz Villanueva (c)

San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

May 2014

                                       

UNCONQUERED

I eat breakfast
and watch Moctezuma's
throat be slashed, the
conquest unfold,

Sor Juana at the 
top/edge, encircled in
violet, her poet's
heart on fire, La

Virgen carried on a 
banner, Coatlique in
disguise, her skulls
hidden under her

gentle dress, a 
woman giving birth
with great IxChel's
help, as all women

are, umbilical cord
dangling from vagina,
child alive, survivor of
the conquest, I am

a survivor of the 
conquest, a wild
mestiza child, my
poet's heart on 

fire, I am the 
dreamer, one of 
thousands, Moctezuma
slaughtered, terrified of

our dreams, our visions,
now I sit, centuries
later, my dreams,
visions, memory,

intact- I see the
Great Books burning, 
I weep, this I know,
dreams can't be

burned, I see
Sor Juana's 
poet's heart on
fire,

as the woman's 
vagina burns with
birth, IxChel singing,
"Dreamers, you have

survived, each century
your voices stronger,
sweeter, your poet's heart
unconquered, dream

new words,
new stories,
new Great Books, on
fire." 


To Sor Juana's heart

*Written at Instituto Allende, San Miguel de Allende,
Mexico, while gazing at the magnificent mural of
Mexico's his/herstory, on fire, unconquered. 
March 2014

Alma Luz Villanueva
(c) copyright, 2014