On the edges of this valley

On the edges of this valley,
where the city lights don’t turn,
I sit on piles of garbage
waiting for it to burn.

In the landfills from the valley
children sometimes play
- a beautiful new wonderland
in shades of black and gray

-“Welcome to New Eden”
A sign reads where I walk
a crystal orange horizon
that melts where heaven rots.

In the air there’s something special,
where the blue jays used to flock.
If you have the time, then come with me
and I’ll show you more than talk-


[rings of ash and steel tubes-
boiling pots with fiery flumes-
sizzling oil that smokes in plumes-
plastic bags with rusted screws...]


chapping lips that bleed and scab
as scratchy blisters pop and sag
and tell-tale dreams are scattered about the trash...

A better world that could have been
a simpler time that simply went
and all the world around you up in smoke...

So many times you didn’t look…
Your dollar spent on which we choked
On turpentine and sulfur trash instead

On hunting knives that bloodied toes
On bullet shells that carved fresh holes
And strings of wire with jagged spikes
to cut our tender flesh…


So talk amongst yourselves of blame
it kills you anyway…
the time you take is time we need,
and time is short for change.

In the landfills of your cities
Your children and I will sit,
And pray to God for miracles,
Until they make us sick.

Andrew Venegas
San Jose
SJSU
poetry