harold terezón

harold terezon


harold terezón is an educator and poet from  Pacoima, CA. He was awarded the 2013 James D. Phelan Literary Award by San Francisco Foundation.  His work has appeared in Texas Poetry Review, POECOLOGY, Puerto del Sol, PALABRA, and Rushing Waters Rising Dreams: How the Arts Are Transforming a Community,  among other publications. As a member of WritersCorps, he teaches creative writing to elementary and middle school students in San Francisco. He is currently working on Hunting Izotes, a poetry collection inspired his family's immigrant experience in Pacoima, CA and by Pacoima native Ritchie Valens.

You Roque, Only You

You are the Roque toasted & grinded of my horchata

You are the sweet Roque whose crumbs I lick off my plate with each sip of Nescafé

You are the Roque melting through my every maize pore sizzling on the grill like my great
 grandparents' whispers

You are my plate of Roque fried, annoyed, with beans & cream before mass every Sunday

You are the quintessence Roque loving underneath the ruin in which we fell in love with

You are the most saddest Roque of the Roques in my garden

You are the Roque that punts and shoots the rose in my heart

You are once, twice, three times a wetRoque  & I love you when we are together in
Guatemala, Mexico, Arizona, the moments shared with every border crossed

You are the Roque I trust in, the blood of suffering people who implores me, begs me, &
 orders me to stop the repression

You are the sonofthegreatRoque manifested in my language forgotten

You are the Roque that rocks my streets with swollen beats & black eyed rhymes

You are the Roque I will build dreams tragic nails will not puncture

You are the Roque of the Pacific that awakens the American dream 

You are the Roque that battles my tendency to define myself as a nation
You are the Roque that invites the embracement of all the atoms battling inside me  
You are the Roque deferred, festering like a sagging sore set to explode

You are the hidden Roque broken, exiled in revolution's thighs before returning home

You are not my first Roque. Or my last. What's there to say?

You are the Roque Ocean stepping out of my dream & into my 1993 Camry XL. Ya I am
talking to you, Roque

You are the very kinky kind of Roque you don't take home to mother

You are our Magical Roque ready to reverse the conquest back to its origin with bicycle
kicks, jukes, & tricks only to be massacred when we step onto the fields again

You are the Roqueman, Roqueman, can do whatever a Roque can, spin a web in disguise.
Break a jail any size. Look out! Here comes the Roqueman!

You are the only Roque, & alone in loving you & reciting your name in all times of the night
I forget I throw myself to drunkenness & perdition


You Bring Out the 80's

the red leather jacket in me
sleeves zippered with your name in me
the Arsenio Hall Dog Pound WootWoot! in me
the Cabbage Patch dancing in me
the Freaks Come Out at Night in me
the breakin' on cardboard dance floors in me
the Message in me
the Pet Rock in me
the Saturday Afternoon Kung-Fu Theatre starring Bruce Lee on Channel 5 in me
the Siempre en Domingo con Raúl Velasco in me
the Aqua Net & cha cha hair proud, strong in a Suzuki Samurai cruising Laurel Canyon in me
the Rubik's Cube in me
the Ice-T in me
the Pac-man in me looking for
the Miss Pac-man in me
the Little Mac with green boxing gloves trying everything but
giving up in me
the dream of what you won't do, you do for love in me
the Lisa Stanfield in me searching the I don't know why you gone so far away &
the NWA in me expressing myself before it was safe in me
the creased khakis, the flannel shirt, & the humming I'm your Puppet in me
the news of Challenger Space Shuttle in me
heard over the intercom in Mr. Morgan's English class in me
the it's so hot out here we slept outside in me
& don't worry because the Night Stalker has better barrios to stalk than Pacoima in me
the Whittier Earthquake in me
the Homer Simpson in me tormented like me over the blue haired
Pretty Young Thing repeat after me in me
the Nevermore in me
the Astrosmurf
The Popeye &
the Jerry Lewis in me
the Choose Your Adventure Book in me
the boom box in me playing on the rainy day in me to the empty window in me
the Timmy T
the Stevie B wondering if I take you home
will you still be 
the Battlefield
the Berlin Wall
the Salvadoran War in me
the el Mago Gonzalez playing in Spain at the World Cup in me
the Fernandomania & Jaime Jarrín in me
the Donnie Moore one strike away from the '86 World Series in me
the What goes around comes around Bill Buckner in me
the Lou Diamond Phillips lip sync of oh Donna at the telephone booth in me
the Converse Chuck Taylors at a Payless Shoes sale in me
the ColecoVision in me
the Mark "the Rat" Ratner in me
the Duckie dancing like it ain't no thing at the music store in me
the Al Pacino thinking he was out but
they pulled him back in without an Academy Award for the Godfather 3 in me
the Poncherello
the Gloria Anzaldua
the El Louie
the This is for La Raza
the Poema de Amor in me
the Now who you gonna call? in me
the I Aint Missin You at all... since you've been  gone... away playing over &
over no matter what my friends might say in me

In Case You Forget 

I did not give birth to you
so you could play all day
Oh no
you will not lounge around
like kings & queens of Spain
I don't care how cute & young
you think are
You will get off your lazy ass
& wash dishes
sweep the kitchen & living room
clean the bathroom
take out the trash
& cut the grass
even if you need scissors
to keep the grass short
You will not get
bad grades at school
because we did not cross borders
risking our lives
so you can chat all day
with your friends
& come home with a B
I don't care
& I didn't ask how high
you think a B is
You will go to college
You will not consider marriage
or have a boyfriend or girlfriend
until you graduate
Let me remind you that
if I say the sky is green
even if you see it purple
the sky is still green
Just remember
I got the iron's cord
your father's sandals
& a whole lot of olive branches
in the backyard
if you think to say otherwise
& don't think reporting me
to social services
will change a thing
because when I get out of jail
I will come back for you
because there's no way
you will end up like us


clark at the border 

it's like i kissed louis lane
just before i left home,
seduced by a dream
never meant for me.
i wonder if i have it all wrong
if superman is not who i am
destined to become. 
i have no blue eyes
or a mythic jaw line.
& although i have been told
i came to life unexpectedly
like a comet incinerating the sky,
all superman & me
got in common is
black hair & a red cape. 

i am unable to dodge questions
as venomous as kryptonite
piercing my skin.
instead i sit,
count ceiling tiles,
& watch a spider
swing out the window.
i feel the fear swelling
in my parents’ prayers
past the closed doors.
if i close my eyes
without crying,
could i teleport in
a crimson fleet powerful enough
to make them understand
i was born here?