boyle heights brujeria

by Ruben Mejia

dreams are home to drifters, 

with a feeling of loneliness so pervasive, 

that it warned me not to go to hollywood 

but it was my heart that told me i should. 

in places deep down, 

where monks roam freely, 

i always hoped for more 

between the moon and the sun. 

in complete devastation, 

between the spaces of my breath, 

i begged for forgiveness 

from anyone who would listen. 

i believe in blessings and curses 

but i am curious about asking 

the shaman next door 

if what i saw in my dreams 

could ever in some life hold any truth.