so, i’m in love.

his name is Francisco X. Alarcón.
though we shall not likely meet, his poetry is enough.
he wrote this collection called Snake Poems, an Aztec Invocation.
ok, check this out –
in 1629, Hernando Ruiz de Alarcón, a catholic priest from Atenango
(in what’s now the state of Guerrero, Mexico) wrote a manuscript on
Native American beliefs called Tratado de las supersticiones y costumbres
gentílicas que oy viven entre los indios naturales desta Nueva España.
in english that’s Treatise on the superstitions and heathen customs that today live among the Indians Native to this New Spain. not a good guy, this Alarcón.
he wrote to expose the ‘heathen’ practices among the Indians to extend the repressive practices of the Spanish Inquisition . but the interesting thing was that by writing all these spells and curing remedies down he created the only comprehensive compilation in existence. so a few hundred years later, along comes Francisco X of the same last name and he makes poetry out of it while passing along the knowledge. his poetry is spare, but only in actual word count.
the ones that he chooses resonate and seem to echo from the head to the heart
and back again. absolutely spellbinding. here are a few so you can see what i mean.

I’m Not Really Crying
it’s just
the sheer
number
of chopped
onions
in the world

Mestizo
my name
is not
Francisco
there is
an Arab
within me
who prays
three times
each day
behind
my Roman
nose
there is
a Phoenician
smiling
my eyes
still see
Sevilla
but
my mouth
is Olmec
my dark
hands are
Toltec
my cheekbones
fierce
Chichimec
my feet
recognize
no border
no rule
no code
no lord
for this
wanderer’s
heart

Never Alone
always
this caressing
Wind
this Earth
whispering
to our feet
this boundless
desire
of being
grass
tree
corazón

Day and Night
I bleed
in silence
all alone

Martín
Mariana
Domingo

in fields
in streets
in cells
my fists
hit
walls
whips
undress
my ribs
from
my mouth
come out
broken teeth
blood
butterflies