Poem: “Don’t Speak English, I”

Dedication: I dedicate this poem to those who without knowing a language have had to speak it.

Poem: “Don’t Speak English, I”

Selected Verses:

Father told me, “Tell them…”
“I don’t speak English,”
because I understood the world in Spanish.

~ ~ ~

But like an immigrant who would NOT be defeated,
my courageous little mouth, lips and tongue repeated:
“Jes! Don’t spic English, I.”

Find the poem @…


Poema: Leyenda del Coquí

Poema: Leyenda del Coquí

Versos Selectos:

En la profunda oscuridad nocturna,
una flecha, al besar mi pecho, rozó mi alma.
Moribundo y perforado, tambaleando llegué a ti:
¡Río de aguas patrias, comparte tu vida!
Lame mis heridas –y aunque muera mi cuerpo,
lejos esté de mi Nombre morir.

~ ~ ~

Al caer mi corazón en tus aguas cristalinas
Al caer mi sangre y lágrima en tu alma corriente
Transpórtalos a los confines de la patria
y al rozar el alma de otro u otra indígena
que en tu lecho duerma, transfórmalas en Coquí
Coquí… Coquí…

El poema se encuentra…

Poemas Caribeños

Poetic Breeze

My books of poetry (the first in Spanish, the second in English) highlight the word “breeze.” I fear that the complete impact of the word’s meaning can be lost. Its poetic significance can only be experienced when you’ve felt a Caribbean breeze soothe your skin from a blistering summer day in Old San Juan or caress you on a humid afternoon in Puerto Rico’s mountains.DSC_0055

If you’d like to experience both, visit Puerto Rico. Do what I did this summer and bring a copy of my books (Caribbean Poet and/or Poemas Caribeños) to Puerto Rico and you’ll fully understand what I’m talking about.

My wife and I enjoyed this Airbnb mountain house in Adjuntas, Puerto Rico this summer:



Poem: May we have a home?

Dedication: I dedicate this poem to those who have been denied a home because of race or ethnicity.

 Poem: May we have a home?

 Selected Verses:

The couple was persistent. Caribbean Hispanics
battered by their circumstances and haggard
–yet intent on flying skyward.
But in the end, their mobile souls bled
when the soulless landlord said:
“I’m sorry, but you’re not the right Hispanic. –You know… European… Spaniards.”


Find the poem @…