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Carlos Arturo Arias

A Mestizo maker of Meaning,
Motivated by rice and beans,
3rd world scenes and tenement beams,
Baggy jeans,
A proletariat,
With more Underground time than Harriet,
Work so socially dense you'd think a Bolshevik designed me,
But Red doesn't define me,
Love German Fat caps with Rusto Flat blacks,
Etch bath and ink inside my krinks,
Pigments sinks,
Down past my dermis,
To adorn my Brown surface,
Interests in struggle so I study insurgents,
People died so I can shine,
You think I'm going to pick up tools and waste my culture's time?
Some might say I got an obsession with a oppression,
Not knowing Reagan taught me my first math lesson,
Identity never in question,
And I don't buy from any god,
So I can't sell any hope,
Conceived through missions of Inquisitions,
On Red Skin Folk,
And Black throats holding ropes,
Buy charcoal by bulk,
A fiend for oxy-acetylene, plastaline,
And wet needles that poke,
Aerosol aroma, tags on loose leaf,
Subway cars, 16 bars,
Back pack thru Arequipa streets,
Sharpies on papyrus sheets,
Pencil grip became intense,
When Marx spoke to me about cents,
Left the mailroom in suspense,
When I walked out the Mercantile fence,
And married, thought, process,
and Aesthetic sense.