new pedestals

don't even know where to begin, old friend
i've written so much for other people these last few years
i forgot about us
this exercise of expelling the raw
the candid

the moment

in this moment
i am
a mother
and the demons of a yesteryear are quieter these days
actually, plenty of them have dispersed
replaced themselves by new life experiences
to be honest, there's just simply not enough time in the day
to nurse on pedestals every little insecurity that ever was
ever hurt feeling
as you get older, become a parent,
you learn to get the fuck over it

think that might sum up these last few years in a nut shell.

i've been getting the fuck over it.
by going through it.

and some demons, they still live
some times seep into my dreams
seep into reality
but i just acknowledge them.
say hello old foe.
and let them pass.
being a mother
and soon a mother of two,
i really have no time
to dance with demons and poeticize their existence.

motherhood.
parenthood.

that's a poem for another day.

#3 40

I was asked to write a little something about my brother

Brother bear #3 as I commonly refer to him as

Or Dante Pante

But most of you know him as Rufio or Prince Zuko

Or maybe as a poet

a community leader

One of the founders of DPL or more recently WeOwnThe8th

If you’re old school you may have even called him Titus back in the day

This is just a little sister’s opinion

But to know a person

To really know a person

You’ve gotta know where they’re from

Which is funny because as some of you may know

He has a poem called “where are you from”

And in it he discusses the neighborhood he grew up in

A Filipino kid getting caught in the crossfire of lurking police and protective gangsters

I won’t give away the ending, but I will say, he talks about being human at the end of it

The value of what it means to be a human being

I couldn’t begin to talk about Dante without mentioning his brother Derek

The eldest, his kuya, who made him an uncle at 14

Preparing him for his own hand at fatherhood someday

Or the endless well of respect he has for his other brother Darion

Or the love he holds for his brother Dion

I guess you could say my brothers are best friends

If you know my brother, then you must have followed him down a dream or two

Like his dream to bring faces like ours to the forefront on screen, in music, on stages

Like the dream our mother had of putting a bunch of Asian kids in the entertainment industry in the 80’s

Or the dream our grandfathers’ had to uproot their entire families and move half way across the world to a foreign land

Guess you could say, we’re a family of dreamers

And dreams coming true

And in a rare occasion

If you’re at the right place at the right time

You might see my father in him

As emotion swells up in his eyes

Sometimes for a big moment

And sometimes for the smallest of fondest memories

We’re sentimental like that

We would gather

Much like this room now

under one roof

The bascos, the abastas, the willis’, the jaromays, the mckenzies

Cousins and aunts and uncles and neighborhood cousins and aunts and uncles

And sing songs

Tell stories

This was his first training in storytelling

This was his first training in working a crowd

Because you’ve gotta be loud

And you’ve gotta be charismatic and quick

To thrive in the tribe

His first dance studio was in a living room

Watching my parent’s cha cha to sabor a mi

While Auntie Eleanor strummed the 6-string

And then later the streets of San Francisco with his brothers

Under the name Street Freaks

Have you seen him on a dance floor?

It’s like watching music come to life

Even growing up where we grew up

He always had a taste for the finer things in life

And wasn’t shy to earn

The best ride

The best speakers

The newest technology

But he’s also one of the first to volunteer to sleep on the ground

When we’re short of beds

He is humble

When you’re living with 20+ in a house with 1 bathroom

You learn generosity and how to share pretty quick

But it also forces you to work harder

To find your individuality

My brother is singular

Growing up where we grew up

In a family that didn’t meet the neighborhood mold

It also made you work harder to get out

And he did

And he brought his tribe along with him

And though protective like the gangsters we grew up along side,

Like our Grandma B, his door is always open

And you may not know it

But just like our Grandma Abasta

He’s been praying for the betterment of ‘us’

What good are we human beings

If we do not represent our tribe well

This is just a little sister’s opinion

-- but that is what my brother does

He re-presents us well

So cheers

To one of the riskiest dreamers

One of our top storytellers

Cheers to the legacy he came from

The one he is creating

And the one he is continuing

papa allen

i didn't know him

i mean, i hung out with him

a handful of times

not enough

to know a man

but enough to know

that this was the beginning

beginning of something huge




i didn't know him

but i met his son

in a chance encounter

in the city of sin

that city muddled with liquid courage


stumbling stupers

a strip that's glittered

with choices that most people don't remember the next day




but the next day

his son found me

and he wrote me




i didn't know him

but something in his son

i recognized




we were a bit limited, see

in a facebook chat

just words exchanged daily

but something in his writings caught me

there was a sensitivity in every letter typed

a sentiment of everything he had ever wanted to be

all hope for humanity

and a future that reflected a glimmer of light from his past




i didn't know him

not personally

not really

but i know his son

and the man his son is becoming




he reminds me of the rarity of my family

the anomaly of a Good Thing




from what i hear of him

i've known him all my life

he's the reason

people want to be better






i was told recently he was a man of few words

which was always a surprise because his impact was immense

guess a heart that large is too busy to talk about how or when it'll beat

it just does

steadily

consistently

constantly

reliably






to really understand someone

... yeah, you gotta listen

to the beat, the timbre in their voice

the melody of their life

the harmonies of their actions

you gotta see them, really see them

spend time with them

quality time

--but sometimes you gotta stop looking at them


you gotta start looking from them

i mean, you gotta see the world as they see it

from their perspective




papa allen,

i want you to know he does

papa allen,

you can rest now knowing you did good by him

papa allen,

he adored you

papa allen,

it meant everything to him

for you to see him

as a father




so these words i write now

it's just an offering

a marker

because your legacy is obviously and apparently and concretely

limitless

but this

this is for rory

so she knows

of her papa allen

and where the light in her father

comes from

what she left

we are not a rich people (yet). 

i mean, like the rockefellers, the lauders, the gallos. 

like there's no trust fund or some large inheritance. 

but i went to take a shower in this bathroom in my parent's room in our old family home. 

it felt... noble. it felt... dignified. it felt... fancy. 

even with the dust bunnies in the corners. 

the sensitive shower temperature that will change without being summoned. 

and when i stepped out, i took a good look at my body on the wall sized closet door mirrors. 

the way my body curves. 

the stretch marks. 

the way it tones up. 

the way it tones down. 

the color of my pigment in the light. 

the redness of my eyes after a good cleaning. 

where the weight of me gathers. 

the shape of my feet. 

the structure of my hands. 

the broad of my shoulders and the filling under my skin. 

and its funny cause i see these same forms in my cousins and my aunts and my uncles.

my nieces. my nephews. 

in my brothers. 

my daughter. 

and in our speech. and in our laughter. or the way our emotion comes up. 

the way we're angered. the way we mourn when we tell stories of grandma. the way we sing. the way we play. 

the reflection in this mirror in this room in this house. 

i look in this mirror and i see my tribe. 

this weight that hugs these bones... 

for the first time in a long time i look at my body and i feel: 

beautiful. 

i feel: rich. 

we inherit each other. 

grandma left for us the most sought after treasure of them all. 

family. 

a real, true 

family.

feel free to share.

if you love your family.

if when you look in the mirror

you see what i see.

the color and the shape and the love

the faults and the scars

the choices and the journey

the blood and the character

of your tribe.

rest in peace grandma-ma.

give a squeeze to grandpa for us.

thank you for existing.

7 children.
20 grandchildren.
21 great grand children.
2 great great grand children.

a rib

and when my body is away from yours

my ribs want to break out from under my skin

and hold you

i look down at my weathered belly

it longs for the next season

and i'm afraid not to want it too much

i'm afraid it won't be meant to be

and it's better this way, i know

we should do it right

we should marry

i don't know if i ever really ever saw myself as someone's wife

like really really saw myself

like if i would ever find someone who got me that much

who loved me that much

who i loved that much

trusted that much 

with my heart

my people

my daughter

in our moments

in our true naked moments

it's like i can see forever with you

it's' like you're already inside my skin

and all of our children are swinging from the bars of my rib cage

and you

you nestled inside my skin

i guide you along my spine

you swim in my veins

and sometimes you even climb up, grab a seat, plant yourself behind my eyes

there you catch a glimpse of the world through my lens

you catch a glimpse of yourself

and you finally see what i see

how i see you

i don't know if i ever saw myself as someone's wife

like really really saw myself

but looking at you

in our moments

in our true naked moments

how could i not marry you?

where would you nestle?

where would you live?

where would our children play?

forever is a barren place without us.

between the like-hearted

a peregrine falcon wrote:

The machine breaks down.

Feels something is wrong, slows and then stops.

It’s shade covered ground

once moved with intention, now painted on top.

The fixers reach in,

Talk fast and sigh slow, shake heads and connections -

“We now can begin,

pull plugs and these wires, and damn the directions.”

The machine goes to sleep.

“Of what does it dream?” they say in hushed voices,

“Of gearing, of oil, Electrical sheep?” the questions grow stronger

It dreams of it’s purpose, of what it once did but now can no longer,

trapped by design and long-ago choices.

The machine wakes up.

The fixers are finished.

The machine starts moving once more.

and out of an almond eye:

inevitably it moves

finding its groove

because the truth is

he moves this

like the tin man who misplaced his heart

the fixers didn't know of this living part

the headache and earache, the backache and earthquake

it was an easy mishap to overlook this man's will

but no one can stop this machine from being real

though necessary

the pulled plugs and those wires

he fought the adversaries 

with the defiance he acquired

see this machine never played by the rules that were planned for him

what i mean is that he's already paid for those modules that brand him

and though he takes what he must from the fixers with hushed voices

make no mistake, he's going for bust because he knows the answer is in his choices

and he chooses to follow the shapes of his shadows

inexorably moving forward into his bright tomorrows

intrinsically in pursuit of that purpose, of that intention

where man and machine finally find some salvation

written by francis allen and yours truly

a peregrine falcon

because even in your brokenness you defend your nest
your mind 200 mph never at rest
your curiosity a wanderer roaming freely
as you crush your opponent's intellect bluntly
because they adapt to almost every habitat in the world
and i can only imagine how you'd be to your girl
your heart so loyal to your mates
territorial of your hoarded treasured space
i agree, if afterlife were such a thing
i think you'd fly and sing

i think you'd be a peregrine falcon
Because you answer when your people beckon