Sandra Cisneros Poems
|1.||Bay Poem from Berkeley||7/23/2016|
|2.||With Lorenzo at the Center of the Universe||7/23/2016|
|3.||Mexican in France||7/23/2016|
|4.||Arturito the Amazing Baby Olmec Who is Mine by Way of Water||7/23/2016|
|6.||I Am On My Way to Oklahoma to Bury the Man I Nearly Left My Husband For||3/12/2016|
|8.||My Wicked Wicked Ways||7/23/2016|
|9.||Black Lace Bra Kind of Woman||3/12/2016|
|10.||One Last Poem For Richard||7/23/2016|
|13.||You Called Me Corazón||7/23/2016|
|14.||Tú Que Sabes de Amor||7/23/2016|
|15.||You Bring Out The Mexican In Me||7/23/2016|
"If you are a poet, you will see clearly that there is a cloud
floating in this sheet of paper."—Thich Nhat Hanh
Before you became a cloud, you were an ocean, roiled and
murmuring like a mouth. You were the shadow of a cloud
crossing over a field of tulips. You were the tears of a
man who cried into a plaid handkerchief. You were a sky
without a hat. Your heart puffed and flowered like sheets
drying on a line.
And when you were a tree, you listened to trees and the tree
things trees told you. You were the wind in the wheels of a
red bicycle. You ...
They say I'm a beast.
And feast on it. When all along
I thought that's what a woman was.
They say I'm a bitch.
Or witch. I've claimed
the same and never winced.
They say I'm a macha, hell on wheels,