San Miguel de Allende

San Miguel de Allende
Roof rainbow...San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

UNCONQUERED

I eat breakfast
and watch Moctezuma's
throat be slashed, the
conquest unfold,

Sor Juana at the 
top/edge, encircled in
violet, her poet's
heart on fire, La

Virgen carried on a 
banner, Coatlique in
disguise, her skulls
hidden under her

gentle dress, a 
woman giving birth
with great IxChel's
help, as all women

are, umbilical cord
dangling from vagina,
child alive, survivor of
the conquest, I am

a survivor of the 
conquest, a wild
mestiza child, my
poet's heart on 

fire, I am the 
dreamer, one of 
thousands, Moctezuma
slaughtered, terrified of

our dreams, our visions,
now I sit, centuries
later, my dreams,
visions, memory,

intact- I see the
Great Books burning, 
I weep, this I know,
dreams can't be

burned, I see
Sor Juana's 
poet's heart on
fire,

as the woman's 
vagina burns with
birth, IxChel singing,
"Dreamers, you have

survived, each century
your voices stronger,
sweeter, your poet's heart
unconquered, dream

new words,
new stories,
new Great Books, on
fire." 


To Sor Juana's heart

*Written at Instituto Allende, San Miguel de Allende,
Mexico, while gazing at the magnificent mural of
Mexico's his/herstory, on fire, unconquered. 
March 2014


Alma Luz Villanueva
(c) copyright, 2014 

Thursday, October 3, 2013

BRIDE

Death paused
for me, I ran
across the
slender, cobbled

street, mourners
behind black
hearse, all
walking to the

graveyard, they
will make the
grave so beautiful,
flowers, favorite

things, bottle of
tequila perhaps, they
know their beloved
dead, their ancestors,

it will be so
beautiful, they
will return Dia de
Los Muertos to weep,

laugh, share
their family
feast, remember 
this life.
        *        *        *
I arrive for breakfast,
courtyard fountain, mural
of Mexico to gaze at, a 
child still connected to

her mother's vagina, cord
not cut, just born, her
ecstatic body- teens
carry stacked chairs on

their backs, hauling huge
tables, velvet sofas, into
the courtyard, men create a
dance floor, women scatter

candles everywhere, fire,
joy for the wedding, fire,
joy tonight, the wedding-
an older woman calmly fills

each tier of the central
fountain with paradise,
armloads of paradise,
rainbows of paradise,

the scent of paradise
reaches me, a wise
hummingbird pauses to
sip paradise, her

rainbow body blinds
me with fire, with
joy, every human
moment becomes

married within me,
death/transformation,
birth/transformation,
wedding/transformation,

my white-light
blinding umbilical
cord still
connected to

La Madre Cosmica,
I am her daughter,
I am her human,
I am her bride. 

                                         San Miguel de Allende, Mexico
                                              October 2013, My birth day...

Sunday, August 11, 2013

My new novel, 'SONG OF THE GOLDEN SCORPION,' is now available- for more info please go to my publisher's site, here's the link www.wingspress.com/book.cfm?book_ID=163  *It looks like you must paste this address- another way is to go directly to www.wingspress.com and click on Authors, my name....but the link is faster. Also, my new book of poetry, 'GRACIAS,' will also be available in November, same wonderful publisher and site, gracias. 
In the streets of Mexico, where I live, vendors selling delicious ice creams, roasted corn, freshly made tamales, bouquets of yellow squash blossoms- my favorite couple in their 80s leading their burro loaded with rainbows of vegetables/flowers spraying out like a halo- everyone comes singing and shouting their offerings by mi casita- this is me singing and shouting with so much JOY...
**The first two photos are of the wonderful native dancers that arrive from all over Mexico (as well as the ones who live here), taking over the zocalo in San Miguel de Allende. The 3rd is me at Quetzalcoatl's Temple, Teotihuacan, Pyramid of the Sixth Sun. 

Monday, April 29, 2013

"OUR FUNDAMENTAL STATE IS JOY." Buddha

Here's a link to some of my poems and an interview... wishing every one, wherever you are much JOY, in spite of sorrow, the daily bad news...I know there's also the daily good news, and we must witness it all. "Our fundamental state is joy." Buddha http://spaceslitmag.com/2013/03/13/poetry-alma-luz-villanueva
**Also, the photos are mine. 
One more link from my favorite Buddhist teacher, Pema Chodron- she quotes from one of my poems, 'Sassy'...very honored. 
www.mandalapress.com/blog/?tag=alma-luz-villanueva

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Dear World,
dear Earth,
dear Ixchel,
                                        March 1, 2013
The taxi driver takes the long 
route, I'm irritated until
I begin to see (again) small
stores with oranges, papaya,

mangoes, bananas, broccoli, avocados,
tomatoes, fresh corn, fresh squash,
fresh strawberries, watermelons
from neighboring fields, some

plowed by horses- everything
tastes like it self, earth
born, not the killing laboratories
where false food becomes

chemicals that stunt our
children's brains, bodies,
spirits, and then medicate
them, they're hyperactive,

autistic, so-called spectrum.
The vendor on the corner, his 
small cart, laughs as he
swiftly slices papaya, mangoes,

watermelon, pineapple, in
containers, lime/chilie on
top, the young woman
roasting her small chickens

(no growth hormones) under
an open flame, she'll spoon
free roasted potatoes, onions,
jalapenos into the plastic bag,

freshly made salsa, a small
store selling handmade
tortillas, freshly roasted
corn into plastic bags,

the vendor on the corner with
her still warm chicken/pork
tamales, hot atole, science 
doesn't intrude on the 

streets here, only a muted
human joy, meeting eyes, greeting
this one, that one, "Buenos dias."
I follow fully feathered

dancers, women, children,
teens, men burning copal, guitars,
full throated singing, drumming
guides the feet, alive

human joy revealed,
feathered dancers turn 
toward newborn Sixth
Sun Spring, a large

man painted entirely blue
sky, lighting bolts appearing,
Thunder Being Kachina-
a tattooed teen hidden in 

fangs, eagle/owl feathers,
kneels both knees, tourists
rush to photograph him-
"He's praying," I say-

"Looks like he's posing to
me," they say- they focus
on his sacred passion,
his Beloved Spring, and when

he suddenly screams, a 
jaguar, they scatter, I
laugh, he continues to dance,
kneel, pray, dance, his Beloved

into being. Into being. 
The children turn on the 
cobbles, little rattles creating
rain, the drummers creating

thunder, the young women,
girls creating beauty, the
tattooed teen dancing passion,
womb of Spring,

praying passion,
womb of Spring,
into being, that we
may live.
        *        *        *        *
Not in the infertile test tubes of
science, but in the endlessly
fertile, wild womb of
Ixchel, our Beloved Spring,

that we may 
live, that our
children live, dear
World, dear

Earth, dear
Ixchel, dear
beloved jaguar
spring.


                                         San Miguel de Allende, Mexico
                                            Alma Luz Villanueva (c)

**The painting, Frida Kahlo, Casa Azul.


Monday, February 25, 2013

RIPENED ROSE

Woke up to a bird
flying out of my
body, a ripened
bird of

joy, water guy
delivering water, flute
player sharpening knives,
warm blue tortillas

soon, joy joy
joy...young man,
immense bucket of
rainbows on his

shoulders, I buy
my share, he smiles,
the woman on the 
corner, warm tamales

wrapped in Madre 
Maiz, Mother Corn,
hot thick chocolate
atole, breakfast,

my granddaughter gave
birth to her first
child, beautiful boy,
my granddaughter a 

healer, may her son be a
healer, as my youngest
son, my granddaughter's
age, a healer, a lover

of Earth, Madre Mar,
Sweet Sky, the families
he heals, his own
family, now

a man, the world-
bring me the daily
sorrows, my own,
the world's- do you

think the rose suddenly
just bursts into bloom,
it begins as a dream
at the very tip of the

thorn, the one that demands
blood- this is how the
rose is born, blooms,
ripened joy. 


To Logan Pauvan Preto, blossomed,
born, his mother's blood, February 18th, 2013.
To my amazing granddaughter,
Ashley Preto. 



Alma Luz Villanueva
San Miguel de Allende, Mexico
(c) All writing copyright on this blog.