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Poetry: Sergio A. Ortiz II

On Their Eightieth Birthday

dedicated to the Governor of Arizona 

His aunt thinks she's a tapestry?   

--First she thought she was a Tapir,

then a pole.  I stuffed a butt plug in her mouth,

but she asked for a loincloth. 

She fell in love with my skin, wanted to peel

it, peel me--Our lady of the Broken Condoms,

Latina Americana gringa wanna be

with the sagging implants. 

What was he doing with gunpowder in his pockets?

--You know why he wears those tight pants! 

Yeah, but if you stare at his tray

he calls you every urban word he ever learned

from Justin Timberlake. 

--He needs to go back to school

before he bad-mouth's me.

Jell and visits to the hairdresser

twice a month to put on those caramel

highlights... metro-sexual?  Mmm, I don't think so.   

      snap-snap - zip-zip 

--She empties his wallet

before he puts on those condoms every time. 

Dumbass gringo wanna be.   

--Um-hum, like Osvaldo Del Rio! 

No, that's the Puerto Rican Actor

that beats up his women.

You know who I'm talking about,

that Mexican guy from Univision,

Fernando Del Rincón. 

He can brush his hair back all he wants,

he still looks like a mestizo.


To the Zookeeper on the Hudson 

When I was ten a pedophile

covered my naked body

with leaves and spider webs,

then left me for dead and oh,

I was so sick. 

Fifty years later your spidery jaws,

and spineless back entered my bible

and boarded my ark like a baboon

courting the tree of knowledge

with its bare ass clambering around 

like a deformed cunt on the long coastal

line of insincerity and oh, how you

made me laugh.  Knowing: is to live

standing in the nude on the porticos,

the rotundas of my courtyard 

watching you clean the manure

on the Hudson, barren mother

of an adopted albino blank face idiot,

heavy old cow with the dull stars.

The vowels of your last name fall  

like an empty echo to the least

of all my canyons.




 All Rights Reserved to Sergio A. Ortiz

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