belts out Cyndi Lauper, but it could’ve just as easily / been Saint Teresa of Avila crooning for Jesus: / nothing replaces the feeling between me and you.
Lord, bless the undertaker who makes the news / for burying the Boston Marathon bomber / when no one else will
This is no self-pitying record of defeat, but a book of rebirth and restoration, a fact suggested by several poems’ titles: “O Forgiveness,” “Therapy Dog,” “The Art of Meditation,” “Battered Victory,” “Stand Up,” “As I Meditate,” “Learning to Glide,” and “Inner Work.” It is a book of candescent triumph.
I want to lasso the sun and drag it down / to my deathbed. A lament become / a lantern.
Rodríguez looks and looks again at childhood, family, religion, and the Colonias of South Texas. Amidst the unincorporated residential areas along the US/Mexico border, these poems take root, rise up, and open their mouths to speak about what is found there.
And what did they write with their iron styli, / what complaints carve into his scholar skin
