J. D. Trejo Maya


Blue Ash

You see the Atlas in the man’s back/while

in other lands others just prayed

to the Land.  Others called it

Mother Earth/

                      Pache mama/


It went thus: a piercing song

Written/thank tataCuaxtli:


Tonantzi                                                                     Tonantzi

      Tonaca cihuatzintli                                              tlatlauqe cihuatzintli

tahac on tic mate                                                       tahac on tic mate

canon ti hualehua.                                                    canon ti hualehua.

(chorus)                                                                     (chorus)


ti mis tlazoh camachilia                                            Tonantzi

aquinononexto oh tic yolmac.                                  Chichiltic cihuatzintli

ti mistlazoh camachilia                                             tahac on tic mate

                                                                                    canon tihualehua.


Coztic cihuatzintli                                                      (chorus)

tahac on tic mate

canon tihualehua.                             Ti mistlazoh camachilia

                                                                        aquinononexto oh tic yolmac…



Iztac cihuatzintli

tahac on tic mate

      canon tihualehua.


This waz given so taking it back:

too the four colors of maize or

the four pieles/pelts/skins of humanity.



Black Light

The sun fall’s the same

upon all of us and/or shattered glass.

Was taught to survive or other

wise live under the cloak of anonymity.

Just so the shade covers

only some of us –in photographic

memory double negative screen:

inquire there’s words here written

but you can’t see them.

As the oxygen you’re breathing

Ancestral DNA:

what do you carry in

your heart bag?

Just words to carry in

                                    crush/ crystals

or gold rain.

Over flow flashes of in –sight:

Elders told your guard aura presence radiates.

Pound on the oxygen amidst the ether

you get black/

                        light between shadows

Lonewolf step into the frame:

                                                            ChicomeTecpatl/ 7-Flint




Addendum & Storm
2 Chikchan 3 Pax

In Maya Long Count


To whom it may concern:

     Where I'm from one becomes careless with one's life.  They asked who influenced your work. I'm the last one Sir the reply no answer back.  This ain't no call n respond as hummingbirds fight.  Mist has fallen on this letter or the facsimile black.  Again this gets to the essence or atomic matter as storms gathered in the jade eyes glare. And you can't take this shaded blue and glee.
     Where I'm from one can become belligerent with one’s life.  Only got myself to hold it down with you see the demeanor sullen and hard.  A tone of brawn the only loved one's already gone.


P.S. The above mentioned ain't ha extinct

        Calendar/measure these words are heavy in the air.


J. D. Trejo-Maya was born in Celaya, Guanajuato Mexico and spent his first eight years in the small, neighboring rural pueblo of Tarimoro.   In 1988, his family and he migrated to California, where he would go on to earn three degrees and develop a passion for ethno-poetic language poetry. Among his inspirations, he includes the ancient poet Netzahualcoyotl and contemporary Guatemalan poet Humberto Ak’Abal.  He has been published in the Nimrod International Poetry JournalBelleville Park Pages, Star 82 Review, Visions International Review, Lost Coast Review, and Redactions: Poetry, Poetics, & Prose, and Altadena Poetry Review. 
















©The Acentos Review 2015