Over the Borderline

Muralism: Portraits of Phoenix Work by Angel Diaz -- 1st Street south of Jackson -- Phoenix, Az Murals are more than an art form, they are part of the lifeblood and fabric of the communities in which they are painted. Whether their locale is a barrio or a newly gentrified neighborhood, murals paint a picture of struggle, culture, history, politics, and activism. They are an outlet for the oppressed, a conduit that connects people from various walks of life, they are a link between the past and present, they are at once a symbol of protest and a beacon of hope for what a unified community could look like. Murals in Mexico predate the arrival of the Spanish conquistadors in the early 16 th century. Much like paintings on cave walls, murals were a communication tool for the illiterate masses. They depicted images of the gods, warriors, animals, changes in seasons, life and death. One of the immediate difficulties the Spanish faced upon their landing in Mexico was the lan...

Sonoran Barbacoa Sizzling peppers send smoke signals Carne asada sears over mesquite A hungry traveler lurks in the brush And dreams of something to eat On the road so long Himself grilled by the sun Nearly out of water And not out to harm anyone As a tendril of smoke fills his nose And a bastard buzzard circles overhead Smells from his youth tickle his soul And coax him back from the dead From menudo to adobo With rice and beans Con mas frutas y dulces He smells it all… it seems He thinks about Durango And cool mountain air And fresh roasted corn At the village town square He wishes he was there Or just up the arroyo Where blazing ranchero music Mixes with the smoke of grilled pollo And so off he goes With his hat in his hand Where he’ll join with those gringos… For his first meal in this land By: Jesse Alberson Tucson, Az

It's true, I'm a bean-aholic! I'll admit it, and I'll never enter a 12 step program to cure myself. I love all kinds of beans; pinto beans, black beans, navy bean, any and all heirloom beans. Lately, I've been making black beans in the crockpot more often, so simple and the results are perfect every time. Not only are they cheap and healthy - full of amino acids, fiber, and protein - but so versatile as well. I like them served with chopped onions, a squeeze of lime, a little pinch of oregano, a stack of corn tortillas, maybe some cotija cheese...it's a meal unto itself. I also like to throw them in pico de gallo, salads, and mixed in with brown rice. If you're adventurous (I am), you can put them in a blender and make an incredible dish called enfrijolades, for which there are many great vegan or vegetarian recipes available on that thing called the "internets." So, instead of opening up a can, fire up the crockpot...the aroma in your ...

Christmas Across the Border A Christmas trip to Arizona Laughing and joking our way Across the desert on a bus A happy and joyous affair Would soon turn into a nightmare Tucson lights at night Sinaloa so long ago It seems... But only the day before Our broken navidad dreams A lone toddler’s shoe Sits on the roadside A single sad sole That tells the tale Of a hurried escape Just ahead of the law With sirens screaming And searchlight beams That blind and shatter Our holiday dreams Broken down bus Southbound lanes La migra licking their chops The officer frowns The cruiser slows down And quickly comes to a stop Checking our papers He lets out a sigh His face is blurred Through my only good eye A scar runs down my cheek From hairline to chin The officer thinks I'm a freak I can tell from his ugly grin My wife carries our son Almost the age of three Born with only one arm A...

Farwestern  Photo by Gregg M. Erickson Mexico '78 Yuma dust storm Middle of the night Mexicali dirty pool Somehow a welcome sight Bursting bottles of Jarritos Back of a Ford pick-up truck 400 more miles of heat “Sorry kids you’re out of luck” Very soon the Sea of Cortez Port of Guaymas noxious fumes Diesel and dead fish The coast of Baja… Seems like a distant wish Load the truck on the ferry In several disorderly lines Ignoring our query “Why is it taking so much time?” Then the rough seas Belching ferry stack A sneering squad of MP’s A mid-meal vomit attack Santa Rosalia Starch white buildings Quiet and clean White hot streets Baja beaches gleam Playa Santispac A collision of desert and sea Primitive campsite No place we’d rather be Nights spent under starlight Days on our own private beach The cabana a beautiful sight Rest of the world out of reach Powerful childhood memories Don’t seem so...

El Fayuquero A Mexican picker heading south In his overloaded truck and trailer Mattresses and tricycles Microwaves and kitchen tables Check off the list a car battery Couches and jumper cables Un Fayuquero heading home Back to his shop Across the southwest he roams Picking at every stop Scavenging American junk piles Shopping at the thrift stores Combing the swap meet aisles Fighting the picker wars In all the little desert towns Blasting winds and dusty roads Enduring the ugly frowns As he secures his unsteady loads Con cuidado , doing 55 on the freeway Bikes teetering on top of chairs Packed pickups towing other pickups Packed to the gills with household wares Flower adorned crosses stand out In the trucks one flickering headlight But the man knows without a doubt… He’ll be in Nogales by midnight Unlike his amigo Miguel Antonio Pedregon-Baray A fellow fayuquero whose cross is nearby His wreck left goods scattered all over the roadway As he d...

Working the Line (the Mexican) Sitting on a street corner South of the border His house many miles south Looking for something to eat Anything to put in his mouth Gone are the days of trabajo Sweat pouring from his brow From building the supermercado To the days of skinning a cow (the American) Well north of the border An American sits on a bench Unable to pay his child support order His fists beginning to clench Let go from the factory Whose chimneys continue to steam Replaced by cheap labor By those chasing the American dream (the laborer) Knowing they think I come cheap I sit on this corner still resolute Across the border are riches to reap Such are the wages of this dispute (the disillusioned) I traded a bar stool for this old park bench With the flurries of November starting to swirl I can live with my girl if needed in a pinch Consternation abounds in this socialized world My beat up old Ford now transports fifteen illegals Be they...

El luchador comes in low Both fists flying He's got a thick brow And a crooked nose He means to do damage With the punches he throws They call him El Cañón But his real name is Beto His hands are like hammers His body solid as a tree As the legend has it He was punching at age three But his madre claims: "He was punching inside of me" El Cañón punched his way out Into a world of scorn He won his first bout By just being born Boxing was his fate What God told him to do It's why he fought so hard And could go so many rounds No one could touch him At 140 pounds He never stopped throwing As he punched his way north Through all the tiny towns From Toluca to Tepic Take on the local star Give him a savage beating And then on to the bar For women and drinking Ahora.... El Cañón esta borracho He's fighting again Some clueless muchacho Who thinks he can win Una pelea en la cantina Not a pretty sight Soon bottles are broken And screams fill the night Beto is blee...

Run From La Frontera Just a boy of twelve Not too strong, not too sure “Vamos al norte,” they said “ Listen to the coyote!” These men of my family Pleaded with me Tugged me, pushed me, scolded me Into reluctance, step by step Falling behind them... Unnoticed I turned and slipped behind a shed The rest were pulled north Like moths attracted to a light bulb See the wall, in all its rusted glory But it repelled me And I felt the pull of Morelia.... De mi Abuela Behind the shed, I poked my head... Out They’ve lost me, dollar signs fill their eyes Lemmings they are, the border their cliff Let them fall into the desert abyss Two weeks now on this road Ever so parted from mi Padre, Primo y Tio This road ever so long and hot Eating well on fruits from a farmers lot Sneaking what I can get Took a rooster from a pen Killed it first with a stone Tied it to my belt and started for home My directional pointed south Toward a sheltered spot en la playa Cerca...