From his apartment window he can see them every Saturday, at least ten aztec dancers in full feathered array. Their tropical colors extending from their headdresses, slicing the air.  They step and jump with hundreds of tiny shells wrapped around their ankles and wrists, shaking in unison to the rhythm of a beating heart. He likes to open his window to let the smell of their incense enter his home. The smoke carries through his window screen and permeates his pores as it makes contact with his skin. He doesn’t understand why it reminds him of sitting in a church.

(more…)

Photo: Nacho Libre, Paramount Pictures

The new year is so close that I can almost put my arms around it. I’m gonna put it in a headlock and call it my bitch! I’m gonna shake the shit out of it till it spills all of its delicious content like a busted piñata and when it bursts I hope that you’ll all jump in and grab as many goodies as you can for yourselves. I don’t mind sharing.

Or maybe, since this is my 40th year rolling underneath my feet and I’m a little to old for headlocks and the inappropriate use of the “B” word. And I don’t think I’ll be swinging at any piñatas since you have to line up by height. At 6’2″ someone has to bust it before I do.

What I think I’ll do is invite next year out for a cup of Mate. I’ll sit with the new year and we’ll plan out how we can make things work for everyone involved. Then maybe we’ll grab some good food and go home happy. (more…)

(Please excuse any grammatical errors. All short stories by Solovino Reyes are in development and will be edited throughout the year.)

It is 1992…..

The sun comes up on East Los just like anywhere else in the world. The birds make their noises and the clouds, if any, proceed in their idle manner.

You get the morning din from traffic and the caustic sound of engines trying to start in the cold air of winter. Visceral shrieks, like a sick man trying to discharge the phlegm out of his chest. A lot of old cars around here are trying to get their motors turning at this hour.
(more…)

(Please excuse any grammatical errors. All short stories by Solovino Reyes are in development and will be edited throughout the year.)

He opened one eye to see her lying next to him. Then he opened the other. The light coming from the window made him squint. In the glow of the sun’s rays he studied her face closely. Enamored by her pout, he looked at her long, allowing his senses to take it all in. He mimicked her breathing pattern and felt connected to her. Under the blanket that they shared all night he held her hand and felt a profound sense of comfort, a feeling of belonging that he never openly shared with her.

His eyelids began to feel heavy again. Slowly they closed, things faded to black, and he fell back into a deep sleep. Sinking slowly, then rapidly, then slowly into himself, his dreams took over.

Solovino, has always favored his morning dreams, as they are the most lucid interpretations of his thoughts: in full color and high definitio­­n sensory perception. (more…)

It took me way too long to post this writer. I first read Aquino while part of a writers workshop: www.theundeniables.org.

But it was on the last day of this seasons Tuesday Night Cafe in J-Town that I met him. The Tuesday Night Cafe is a poetry and performance showcase that has survived for eleven years under the navigation of Traci Kato-Kiriyama. He dedicated this poem to her on the night I was there. I’ve wanted to post it since that day and I’m glad I finally got around to doing this.

Below is the poem he read on that night and I’ve included two other poems by Aquino.

Enjoy.

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The following poem is from Jim Marquez’s latest book “Heart of the Beast-Collected Love Stories” available exclusively at ANTIGUA COFFEE HOUSE in Cypress Park, or at www.LuLu.com/JimMarquez.

Jim has self-published 9 books in the past 5 years and is the Editor of the “Citizen LA”, a monthly arts & culture magazine out of Downtown Los Angeles serving the arts communities of the City of Angels. In addition to being born & raised in East LA, he is a proud graduate of East Los Angeles College & Cal State LA.
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He Was Dancing With A Beautiful Woman

Slow dancing in a dive bar, mid-week, not in downtown.

This was a dream, right?

A mid-west beauty,

In my arms

An actual lady…         (more…)

Ominous angels overlook the dark ballrooms of the Alexandria.

As I drove west on Cesar Chavez the downtown skyline stabbed at the heavens and I could see a dark cloud looming from the Pacific, threatening our city, but as Tom Waits uttered maladies on my radio I embraced the ominous cumulus as a good omen. I was on my way to visit some of the darkest hallways and stairwells that exist in Los Angeles. Rumors of spirits lurking have drawn me here tonight.

These “appearances”, along with the tenants in the old buildings, are rapidly changing nowadays but underneath it all is a soul that you cannot supplant. Just take a walk down Spring or Main Street late one night to feel the remnants of the past; spirits of yesteryear still electrify the passageways.

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House has been vacant over a year.

There’s a house on my block where roosters roam freely. I counted eight this morning. The old lady that once owned the house died. Since then the flowers and grass have been left to fend for themselves. Her family from Mexico replaced the old lady. The grass was left to die and the roses were replaced by cactus. The house and the way it used to look have changed. The only thing left that reminds me of the old lady is her guayaba tree that fills the air with its’ tangy scent in the spring. Currently, they remodel. (more…)

Al asked me that night, “Do I look drunk?” We laughed. I met him and his daughter at a bar in Boyle Heights. Al is in his late 50′s. An old school Chicano. I had a very short coversation with him.

By the way, he was drunk and very proud to introduce his daughter and himself. He told me he’s a writer and I wrote down his website. I asked him if I can share this on my site.

“If you want to, yes. If not no,” we laughed.

After reading the first chapter, I decided, yes.

Here is an exerpt and the link to Al Lucero, enjoy:  

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CHAPTER ONE – BIG SUR

Somewhere I have a real mom and a real dad.

I used to know who they were, but I was wrong.

For four years life had been a series of teaching jobs, cheap apartments, and dimly lit bars in a string of northern California cities.  I was alone since my divorce, living paycheck to paycheck.  A brain tumor had just been diagnosed. For several years my head had been playing host to a star-shaped mass spanning eight to ten centimeters, a bit over three inches.  I figured somehow this had to be payment for a karmic debt it must have taken lifetimes to acquire. Apparently I had not lived very harmoniously.  Trying to find the cloud’s silver lining, I concluded this must be my final installment.

—–Read the whole memoir at his site: http://allucero.com/chapter-1/