Is this why I always have trouble naming my posts?

One of the coolest people I know is Sonya. She recently sent me some poetry that she was reminded of when she saw the Sleepy Hollow store picture that I posted. I love that a little picture I took with my cell phone can somehow be related to these cool poems by aaron abeyta. This is what I love about his poems: the very last line talks about how giving a name to something can make it last forever. The simple act of naming gives permanence. I like that idea. I've always toyed with the idea of naming my house. Not because it's a big presumptious mansion, but because it's mine and I think it deserves a little recognition. Except I've never been able to come up with a suitable name. If it's going to last forever it should be something really amazing. The other thing I love about the poems is that the very next poem tells us that those named things don't really last forever. They get torn down. But. Maybe because we named them they will be remembered.
Anyway, here are the poems:


san acacio garage

metaphor of dirt straw water
human work
set solid
at llano’s edge

a poet
someone with patience
for almost straight lines
must have made this their
three word poem
red lettering on plywood
a shouting sign
to no one passing through
SAN ACACIO GARAGE

the brown adobe garage
must handle the teacher
who says her language
is not diligent enough
forced into a lie
that thousands of adobes
handmade human placed mud mortared
are not diligent enough when compared
to new steel
and windows larger than
the moon fading through them

can this be reason enough to write
those three red words
which remind us
even empty garajes with
slanted light razoring
through cob-webbed windows are
human adobes

adobes with missing teeth
adobes that are lonely
adobes that lose children before and after christmas
adobes that had their rights purchased before they knew their rights
adobes with water that doesn’t flow
adobes that get no mention
adobes that don’t read good books
adobes that should learn english
adobes that don’t dare call themselves mexican
adobes whose bodies are shaped by wine
adobes with bells that don’t ring
adobes made new with paint and then condemned
adobes made mostly of earth
adobes whose sermons are on sin
adobes whose savior fell three times before rising
adobes who are mothers
adobes who are fathers
adobes of thinking stone
adobes of forgetful wood
adobes made of three red worded poems
adobes that should be noticed
adobes that do not fall when they are not
adobes that do not wish their walls to glass
adobes that do not wish themselves to steel because it is new
adobes that are like a huge garaje in the tiniest town
adobes that speak after their patria quits listening
adobes that are heard even after the paper has sent letters of denial
adobes that last forever
adobes that sing old songs
adobes that last because woman and man saw them from the earth
adobes that last because someone saw fit to give them names



san acacio garage an update

they tore her down

i thought that garage
blooming from the llano
like those cactus my abuelita liked so much
would last forever

joe’s ethereal garage
specializing in holly carbs
four bolt mains
domed pistons
and cruising machines
which roll south
through the town of san acacio
the worlds greatest detox center
eight miles in one direction
32 in another and too many
in the other two
from a drop of wine

damn that town aint seen grapes
since 1932 when ms. san acacio
used em as a prop in her fruit of love skit
man was that a sweet sweet chingon scene
when she started feeding them to herself
b/c juan the king of atzlan and leading man
had a rally to attend