Monday, July 17, 2017

For you, who admires invisible nameless people but only through the back channels.

Untitled #071717

I know I am invisible.
I have no name to my name.
I have nothing of value.

You do not admire me.

You only admire those worthy of your admiration

You only admire those whose name is a worthy name.

I reckon that my invisibility is what allows you to take from me.

Yes, you take from me.

You take from an invisible woman.

You take.

Love. Support. Kindness. Ideas. Words and phrases. Images. Energy.

You are self-centered. Narcissistic even. Thinking you are inventing the world, making it anew. 

I suppose this is how those with the valuable names are made. They take from the invisible and then act as if they are making the world anew. They say things like “I am original. I am a trailblazer. I am endowed with the power to make the invisible visible. I can give that to you. But you can only worship me. Let it be known in public that I am your only maker.”


You only publicly acknowledge those with a valuable name.

I understand.

You would not want the world to know that you admire an invisible woman.

“Who? I don’t know her. And, if I don’t know her then she is not worthy because I know all who are worthy. And she is invisible.”

And, having to reply, “but I know her. She is invisible in your world. But I see her. She is a source of inspiration. She is a doer. She is a giver of life.”

That would be a crazy thing to do.

No one admires invisibility.

Everyone knows that.

Unless, that is, YOU are willing to be called crazy.

Saturday, June 24, 2017

On racial un-belonging

I have been asked or told that my nationality, ethnicity or race is:

India by a Puerto Rican woman
Trigueña by a Puerto Rican man
Negrita by a Puerto Rican woman
Negra orgullosa by a Puerto Rican woman
Mestiza by a Puerto Rican woman
Blanca by a Puerto Rican woman
Philipino by a white American man
Japanese by a Liberian woman
Black by a white woman
Latina by a black woman
Indian (from India) by an Indian man
Trinidadian by a Jamaican man
Italian by an Italian man
Dominican by a Dominican woman
Panamanian by a Dominican woman
Jamaican by a white woman
Chilean by a Colombian man 

Wednesday, May 31, 2017

Sometimes I spot this guy...

                                                   Jean-Michel Basquiat. 
                              Portrait on Japanese newspaper on a wall near RISD Museum. 
                              Artist unknown (to me). 

Sunday, April 30, 2017

Untitled Poem #31817

There is nothing remarkable about my hair
it is straight and limp and dark brown
stands as a symbol you see
stuck to my head
glossy strands of "goodness"
flowing toward the earth
reveals I am my father’s daughter
I am from him
no hardship in that hair
I have my mother’s hair too
no history
just heavy
with its freedom
how lucky
we are so lucky
my mother and me
look at us swing our hair in the wind
belonging no where
to be outsiders
no hardship
not with this hair
dark skin
straight hair
that’s right
you see it
broad nose, big lips
straight hair dark brown heavy
we don’t belong to race
not a real black
not a real white
not with that hair
so lucky
not to belong
don’t take sides
we don’t belong
don’t choose sides
we are lucky
so lucky

*written by H. Lloréns