Sanibel poet Joe Pacheco offers this holiday reflection on the economy:

The Night Before Christmas, 2010

Tis the night before Christmas in Florida’s Southwest,
Not a bank that survived will lend or invest.
The stores are all open till the stroke of midnight —
In hopes a late shopper will come into sight.

Portfolios still hang with their stocks stripped bare
While Republicans dream of repealing health care.
The home equity we tapped has completely run dry,
But the rich keep getting a bigger slice of the pie.

Like rats returning to a sinking ship,
They’ve auctioned the condos we once planned to flip.
Tis the night before Christmas in our “underwater” house,
Not a crumb left over for even a mouse,

We’re dining on food stamps this Christmas night
In our remodeled kitchen, our Euro delight ---
The extension we added to help entertain
Still cluttered with posters from Obama’s campaign.

I’ve cut down on Viagra as has Mom on Botox
We’ve sent back to Comcast our new cable box.
That cruise round the world seems far off tonight
As we lie down in darkness to save on the light,

Waiting like children for the clatter and click
Of someone downstairs who might be Saint Nick.


Joe Pacheco

Writer and poet Joe Pacheco was recently featured on Latino USA for his poem "Skipping Arizona" which he wrote as a reflection on the passing of Arizona's SB-1070 into law.

Sanibel
poet Joe Pacheco has written another topical poem for us.  Today he
shares his thoughts on the confirmation of Judge Sonia Sotomayor to the
U.S. Supreme Court.  The 76-year-old retired New York City school
superintendent says this monumental moment allows him to show off what
he calls his “Nuyorican” pride.  Nuyorican’s are Americans of Puerto
Rican descent, born in New York City.

Sanibel
poet Joe Pacheco has written another topical poem for us.  Today he
shares his thoughts on the confirmation of Judge Sonia Sotomayor to the
U.S. Supreme Court.  The 76-year-old retired New York City school
superintendent says this monumental moment allows him to show off what
he calls his “Nuyorican” pride.  Nuyorican’s are Americans of Puerto
Rican descent, born in New York City.

Sanibel
poet Joe Pacheco has written another topical poem for us.  Today he
shares his thoughts on the confirmation of Judge Sonia Sotomayor to the
U.S. Supreme Court.  The 76-year-old retired New York City school
superintendent says this monumental moment allows him to show off what
he calls his “Nuyorican” pride.  Nuyorican’s are Americans of Puerto
Rican descent, born in New York City.

Today is the 40th anniversary of the day Apollo 11 astronaut Neil Armstrong became the first man to set foot on the moon. July 20, 1969 was a day that many who were alive to see it will remember for the rest of their lives. Sanibel poet Joe Pacheco sent us this poem that he wrote on that day:




Where Were You On July 20, 1969? – Joe Pacheco, Sanibel
On the eve of my 39th birthday,

wheeling the TV cart into the living room of my center hall colonial

with my wife and in-laws and my eldest daughter Randy on her grandfather’s lap,

(four year old Allegra asleep in her room), five pairs of human eyes drinking in the incredible —
men on the moon, greatest scientific feat of all time,

and I still struggling with the rabbit ears antenna to make the image clearer;


Armstrong’s carefully prepared “one step, one leap” metaphor

milking in best Madison Avenue style

the great moment for what it would always be worth;


my father-in-law and I engaged in speculation

about how Jewish astronauts could observe Rosh Hodesh,

or say the prayer to the new moon while standing on it,

my daughter interrupting, “Grandpa, I know the prayer by heart”;


then all of us quiet for a long time —

my last hope that it might be a hoax gone, I felt bereft —

beauty and belief and fancies once owned proudly

now replaced by a lifeless sphere;


next day biggest headline ever on front page of the Times:

MEN LAND ON MOON and a poem by Archibald MacLeish

followed a few days later by a special edition featuring several poems,

some acclaiming the achievement,

others lamenting the loss,

a feast for poets but my muse silent,

lifeless.


Since then, the moon reminds me from time to time

that on that day a member of my species trampled on her face,

violating with one irreverent step

a million years of magic and myth and wondrous gazing —

brother Apollo’s module chariot pulling from afar and away from us,

the last ebb of silver dream.

Today is the 40th anniversary of the day Apollo 11 astronaut Neil Armstrong became the first man to set foot on the moon. July 20, 1969 was a day that many who were alive to see it will remember for the rest of their lives. Sanibel poet Joe Pacheco sent us this poem that he wrote on that day:




Where Were You On July 20, 1969? – Joe Pacheco, Sanibel
On the eve of my 39th birthday,

wheeling the TV cart into the living room of my center hall colonial

with my wife and in-laws and my eldest daughter Randy on her grandfather’s lap,

(four year old Allegra asleep in her room), five pairs of human eyes drinking in the incredible —
men on the moon, greatest scientific feat of all time,

and I still struggling with the rabbit ears antenna to make the image clearer;


Armstrong’s carefully prepared “one step, one leap” metaphor

milking in best Madison Avenue style

the great moment for what it would always be worth;


my father-in-law and I engaged in speculation

about how Jewish astronauts could observe Rosh Hodesh,

or say the prayer to the new moon while standing on it,

my daughter interrupting, “Grandpa, I know the prayer by heart”;


then all of us quiet for a long time —

my last hope that it might be a hoax gone, I felt bereft —

beauty and belief and fancies once owned proudly

now replaced by a lifeless sphere;


next day biggest headline ever on front page of the Times:

MEN LAND ON MOON and a poem by Archibald MacLeish

followed a few days later by a special edition featuring several poems,

some acclaiming the achievement,

others lamenting the loss,

a feast for poets but my muse silent,

lifeless.


Since then, the moon reminds me from time to time

that on that day a member of my species trampled on her face,

violating with one irreverent step

a million years of magic and myth and wondrous gazing —

brother Apollo’s module chariot pulling from afar and away from us,

the last ebb of silver dream.

Declaration of
Interdependence:
July 4th, 2007

On this day
of celebrating
independence,
I declare
interdependence
a new truth
to be held
self-evident,
humanity
created free,
interdependent
on each other;

I declare
what defeats
and hurts
any human,
anywhere,
also defeats
and hurts me;

I declare that
suppression
in any corner
of Earth
suffocates,
narrows
the air of the
whole planet
and the
uncontrolled
emissions
of anguish
from those yearning
to breathe free
one day
may vanquish
all of us
unless we free
ourselves
to declare
on this first Day
of Interdependence:

“No one is free
until all of us
are free!”

Joseph Pacheco

Sanibel poet Joe Pacheco took part in the April 10th pro-immigration rally in Fort Myers along with thousands more people than similar protests in larger cities, such as Indianapolis, Houston and Atlanta. Their goal is to seek amnesty or reform to allow roughly 11 million to 12 million undocumented immigrants to earn legal residency. Pacheco also marched on Washington DC four decades ago. In this essay, he compares the experiences.

Organizers of the Fort Myers rally plan a weeklong work stoppage and economic boycott beginning May 1 in Orlando.