Steve Castro
Wednesday, March 30, 2011 at 02:12PM Steve Castro lived in East Rutherford, NJ for a year where he was the manager of Hispanic Ticket Programs for the NY/NJ MetroStars (New York Redbulls) of Major League Soccer. He was in charge of creating the first Honduran Heritage Day in the history of Giants Stadium. Publications: Grey Sparrow Journal, ASKEW, Andar21 (Galiza / Galicia, Spain), Underground Voices, This Great Society, Divine Dirt Quarterly, etc. Forthcoming: Cricket Online Review.
Bread Crumbs
If I died and kept writing, would that be perseverance. The fact that
there’s no question mark, is. When you shoot the shit, does that mean
that the hunter’s bullet penetrated through the deer’s anus? People
call me and I answer or I don’t; people are what they pretend to be
and I, I should. If you refuse to listen but inadvertently pay
attention then you’re multitasking, which is. If you sleep with your
eyes open, then you’re a person who cut off your eyelids during a
dare, a bad LSD trip or you’re dreaming that you’re a fish. Many
French poets shower twice a week and it’s once a week too many. In
San Francisco, I’ve never been there. I travel the world, but my
younger brother doesn’t. I wish I was you reading me right now, I
really do. If you understand me then you’re crying right now; I’m
sorry. My mother is beautiful like the two Angels who were disguised
as two very kind twenty-something year old men from the African
continent, who helped me find my cell phone in Chicago; I blundered
when I asked them if they liked soccer, which they did; I should’ve
asked them if they’d pray for me. I love the sound of my own voice
when it’s silent; it reminds me of the eye of the storm; if I built a
shack in the eye of the storm, it’d be a mobile home with an elevator,
but no windows. I think that the person who coined the word Déjàvu
was an idiot or French, probably an idiot-savant left-handed French
poet, who was so pretentious he showered three times a week. The best
thing about me, I will take with me; these are just the crumbs that
fell off the table.
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