I have a poetry reading with 100 Poets for Change tonight at 7p.m.:
Red Rover Reading Series Outer Space Studio: 1474 N Milwaukee Ave, Chicago, Illinois 60622. 

It's my first time reading in this studio and by some macabre twist of fate, I fucked up my knee at the yoga studio on Thursday trying to get into an uncompromising pigeon pose.  The venue is three flights up, but I am still going and taking my son.  I will just do some poetic penance on the way up for procrastinating on the poem. 

Anyway, I was going to read two pieces, starting with the first narrative poem I published "Jesucristo Santificanos", but the reading is only three minutes long. 

I wrote a whole new piece:  “True Faith in Unity”.  You see, the theme is "Sign of the Times" www.youtube.com/watch?v=8EdxM72EZ94 by Prince, which is a bitter sweet sad song.  If you haven't heard it, the song is deep.  With Trump in office, I am sure many poets will focus on the Trump-post apocalypse.  I decided to focus on hope and vision.

My son is going to help me perform a small part of it from the audience because I included my children and their voices in it.  

Way below is the draft.  I will post it in the Poetry Section when I am done tinkering with it.  Wish me luck!

Oh wait, I was watching Ted Talks to inspire me.  And I caught this good one on writing daemons by Elizabeth Gilbert.  Yes, I read the book:  www.ted.com/talks/elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius

She talks about the writing daemon, and frankly my writing daemon, I hope you get off your ass and come back.  I will start showing up to work on my novel and whatever other creative project needs to be done daily.  Let's work together again, but don't clutter my mind with bullshit.  (Watch the video and that rant will make more sense.)

Reinvigorate your writing daemon without booze.  #Resist
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“True Faith in Unity”
by Dr. Maria J. Estrada
 
People say those in power will always eat a gluttonous feast of misery and profit.
 
The poor will always get poorer.
 
            They will be with us in the shanties of San Luis Rio Colorado, Sonora
Where indias sell harsh mint chicls and Spiderman keychains to American tourists.
           
            In the Gaslight District of San Diego, Califas
Bleeding cardboard casitas and moldy sleeping bags of shame flap in the dry wind street


by street


by street. 
 
Under Chicago’s viaducts, drivers sometimes share a look of meaningful sadness—between texts—maybe throw pocket change at single mother and prisoner toddler, in her tent. 
 
The rich will forever gorge on the fruits of that Puritan zeal, anointed by years of
 
Colonization,
Slavery,
Repression,
Racism,
Misogony, for money

tu bien sabes.
 
Y toda mi pobre gente?  [ME1] 
 
Que se chinguen! 
 
Dreamers?  Que se chinguen! 
 
In fact, already rounding up criminals forever nationally tattooed gangeros. 
 
Unions preaching that loving proletarian-arm in-arm, solidarity forever?
 
 Que se chinguen!
 
Y Texas, Florida, Mexico,
 
Puerto Rico,


            Devastated, starving
 
            Commonwealth like Colony.  Like a Tourist Hacienda.
 
            You asking for some sustenance?  Quieren pan?
           
            Necesitas agua?  Some Aquafina in crystalline bottles?
 
            Te hace falta la luz for the hospital?  Para vivir?
 
Pues Amen.
 
 
I look to my children, who fill me with so much esperanza, [ME2] and I a wonder at their different celestial dreams.
 
Seven year old son, prays every day, “Dear God, Please make Trump a better man.”
 
My heart laughs amazed at his Faith.
 
My two year old hija so sweet, powerfully determined prays, for her friends, the scared,
Los zoo animals, her light-up shoes. 
 
She knows nothing of Twitter terrorist threats, fake nuclear news against North Korea, China,
the selected Middle East.
 
Against You.   
 
Sure, let’s pray for our enemies.
 
Let’s also pray for what could be
 
That Unity
           
Where abundance that is now
 
            The technological splendor that is now
 
            Will be shared gratis y sin verguenza.
 
                        Unashamed and free for all to have
 
            And my children and your children and
 
We
           
            —We won’t have to pray for their scraps anymore.    
 

 [ME1]Circle arm motion to include all.

 [ME2]Point at Antonio.

The cursed WiFi won't allow me to post the changes I made to the novel draft.  They weren't that many, as I am trying to get on a daily writing groove.  It's the principle of the matter.  Thank you WiFi service for not working. 

On a more inspiring note, I am reading at the 100 Poets for Change Event in October.  I want to write a poem on vision.  The theme is Prince's "The Sign of the Times," which is too easy given the Trump administration.  Still, I want to write about vision and leave people with hope.  That will be my writing project for the week.  I am also reading "Jesucristo Santificanos".  It is timely given the DACA and immigration issues.

I am not into a writing rhythm yet.  I think this semester is proving to be as challenging as the summer, but I need to be disciplined and just write.  My mornings are getting more ideal for writing, as I am not walking, but going to yoga a little later around nine or so.  Maybe I need to take Carlos Fuentes' advice and move to England where it rains all the time and the night life sucks.  However, Chicago winters have the same effect.  You stay home and write. 

Stay home and write, you.  #Resist.