Category Archives: Blog

Amo a Cuba como el sordomudo abrumado por la emoción

Amo a Cuba como uno que no sabe lo que hace

La amo como un desconocido tocando a la puerta subitamente

Como los borrachos, la amo

Como las hormigas trabajando de noche

La quiero como un vaso de agua, muerto de la sed

Es tan querida como la alumna quien me mira con sospecha al darle leccíon

O como un amigo que te da un abrazo sin dudas

La amo como cuando el corazon adolecente me saltaba leyendo a Martí

en las mañanas heladas de Nueva York

Es un amor tan tierno como cuando cargaba mi hija, ellla gritando

como si la estuvieran matando.

La amo como la pulsada del guajiro

Amor a Cuba es un chancleta con que me suenan por la cabeza

o un...

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This Morning

Just this morning it happened: June’s plague.
Squirrels by the dozen descended from nearby trees
choice yellow mangoes left violated, bitten on the vine.
Mosquitoes similarly stung a feast on my ankles
and beside me, turned my dog’s butternut flank red.

I drank a cup of coffee followed by a glass of water.

And I remembered a woman who sits zazen with us
All she does is tell us about how her husband left:
how she wants to die and then kill him–unaware
of her irony. I wonder: am I any different?

The ants that march by me in single file
each one carrying a crumb from last night,
the coffee that wakes me, the blood I let
to mosquitoes swarmed at my ankles,
the squirrels’ mango...

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I am more than what I decide to get done today

part mole on my grandmother’s cheek

some belittling gesture my grandfather made.

The indignant patriot before a righteous machete charge,

I was in his cold coffee this morning.

My aunt’s secret Charleston dances, when she decided to cut her hair short

the raindrop that fell into my mother’s eye at her wedding

my father’s ashes leavened with regret for having left Cuba,

and the pair of shoes he got when his mother died.

I’m standing between two mirrors back and forth,

forward and aft, as on a ship, and focus past

the echoes of my ancestors reflected to a point

just past the horizon….

…I am an unseen decision made in the dark.

The dead just...

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front cover, In the Shadow of Bois Hugo: The 8th Lincolns at the Battle of Loos by Nigel Atter, Peter Simkins (Foreword)

Atter’s book covers the story of a battalion going first into action in the Battle of Loos, France in 1915. The Lincoln’s (Lincolnshire County’s) 8 Battalion is an example of what was even then being called Kitchener’s Army. This was the first nationwide enlisting effort in Britain, personified by Lord Kitchener in his personal appeal for more men, in reaction to the fact that the original BEF was all but gone by 1914’s end. There was a critical shortage of manpower on the British front facing the German trenches from Ypres snaking southwards to Artois.

Enlistment,...

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Chaz Mena – October 14; 2017

He played in Sara Werner’s The Things They Left Behind as Cleve Ferrell. SKSM: Could you start with telling me a bit about yourself? Who are you and what do you do? Chaz Mena: Chaz is a Freedoms’ Foundation Award winner (2014) for his PBS teleplay, Yo Solo…

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Day old bread and this morning’s coffee

tastes like opportunity all over again

I know the milk is off by now, the coffee saccharine

the bread’s crust limp with rancid butter

but so is my forgotten To-Do list from much earlier

written in tired pencil, no room for error

its eraser long since gone

thus goes my life I’m tempted to say

and another day drips off

I didn’t visit my ailing mother

and my father’s ashes still lie here, in an alien country

one that showed itself to him with as much promise

 

 

as my to-do list did me this morning

I feed my daughter fried zucchini and finish this poem later.

All I ever am is one man with one day to fill right.

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Played to sold-out audiences. It was a pleasure to work with my dear friend, Michael McKeever’s on his new play. The trailer below produced by Actors’ Playhouse at the Miracle Theatre, Coral Gables, FL.

Review from Miami’s Daily, The Miami Herald

JULY 17, 2017 1:45 PM

 Intriguing stories swirl in new play about the iconic Mona Lisa

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This article is a response to my month-long residency at Colonial Williamsburg published on their official blog, MakingHistoryNow.org My residency in Williamsburg will remain a shining time in my life and in my family’s. I remain forever indebted to Colonial Williamsburg Foundation for its generous recognition of my work. Look for “Miralles & Rendon” a new play I’m writing describing the strange sojourn of Spain’s first, de facto ambassadors to the recently named country: “The United States of America.”

Reflections of a Revolutionary in Residence

“Papi, am I a princess?” “Yes, Anabella, you are. But we all are. In our country every one of us is a king or a princess,” I said, echoing...

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“In Buddhism, the term anattā (Pali) or anātman (Sanskrit) refers to the doctrine of “non-self”, that there is no unchanging, permanent self, soul or essence in living beings.” -“Anatta,” Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anatta

Knowing at Fifty

Everything stems from a certitude that time is running out
…You use hourglass metaphors without a hint of irony

Cleaning electric razors upset you because there’s only white stubble
…You actually choose one side of the bed over the other

Sex is a rarely-visited, exotic destination
…you buy a selection of colognes as consolation.

Women don’t look back at you when you walk past
…so dogs become a sudden and unanticipated blessing

Your attention...

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