Archive for August, 2016

homo poeticus

homo poeticus

a sliver, a whisper
slides under my notice,
digs deep in dark soil

fresh, moist from
last night’s quieting
rain, until the first

seed cracks through
grains, flashes lightning
and peels thunderclaps,

drives other seeds to
crack and explode
over mountains,

heralds forests to blaze
over cities and deserts,
sparks a wave of

birds that crash and flood
battle fields
and war machines,

the earth is
drowned in Mother’s arms
singing a lullaby for

a singular species,

homo poeticus

Rod Carlos Rodriguez

The Heart of the Earth

The Heart of the Earth

One more poet
points the finger
at blooming flowers
that jiggle and shake
inside green boxes
resting on window sills.

They outrank
the birds who caw
at continuum’s
shaped in Plexiglas.
Continuum fights
off the holy, clinched fingers
attached to hands,

attached to arms
of Madre de Dios
who cries and begs
humanity with such questions as:
“What do you want today?”
“The world,” we say.
“We’re just civilians
who pour syrup in the Cheetos.
A weakness we find
very comfortable.”

Madre cries,
Her children
for help,
for release
of our toxic fumes,
poisonous hate
we clothe Her in,
force Her
to wear,
ill-fitting as these
vestments are.

She’ll grow tired
of the rags,
that poison.
She’ll shake it off,
the infection,

Rod Carlos Rodriguez

image of a business woman looking at the falling paper

falling poetry

Poems the size
of legal paper
are pelting

innocent pedestrians
and causing traffic jams
as drivers exit their

vehicles just to read
the falling poetry.
Eyewitnesses on the scene

indicate most of the
doggerels are in free verse
and couplets,

but some are as large as epics.
This station advises
listeners to stay in their

homes and apartments,
or risk being educated,
or worse connected

with another human being.

Block windows and doors!

Whatever you do,
don’t read the falling

We thank you
for listening.

Rod Carlos Rodriguez



A river gurgles and sputters
on the way to event horizons
lousy with dawn and dusk,
the pale brook paints
itself amid deserts and scrub brush

fighting fisherman
thirsty for flounder, petrified,
oriented towards twilight’s
deep reds and faint yellows.

November coddles the stream,
bursts through country dams,
groans over urban rapids
clouded with flowers drowned
by last night’s downpour
of favors and drought.

The trickle remains
friends with angry clouds and
crazy fog, dribbles
lazy in its walk past
city parks to parched,

summer pools.

Rod Carlos Rodriguez

Rod C. Rodriguez (Stryker)


The “Birth” of Rod Carlos Rodriguez

(Birth Name: Carlos Emilio Rodriguez)


For over 25 years, the nom de plume (seudónimo) of Rod Carlos Stryker has served me as a warm and constant reminder of how I started in this exquisite world of writing, poetry, and the arts. Stryker has been my closest ally, my most steadfast compadre, and has become synonymous with the Sun Poet’s Society. Under this name, I’ve met and broke bread with people literally from around the world. I founded arts organizations, started magazines, wrote award-winning books, and was nominated three times for San Antonio Poet Laureate as Rod Carlos Stryker. I’ve also enjoyed many lessons and opportunities for growth in the arts and beyond while simultaneously honoring my Uncle Jesus Rodriguez and Aunt Cindy Rodriguez who were singularly instrumental in my 30 plus years of writing (see my blog, The Birth of Rod Carlos Stryker: ).

But in the last few years, I have felt a deep-seated desire to return to my roots, mi familia en Puerto Rico. Though some may argue it’s just a name and that it doesn’t really matter what I call myself, I have come to a point in life that it does matter. I want to fully embrace the part of me that is connected to my heritage and my culture in my writing and art photography. Naturally, this will be a process of transition. No change comes without trials and tribulations. Since “Stryker” is and always will be a part me, I will continue to use “Rod” as a salute to both my previous alter ego’s memory and my uncle and aunt’s immeasurable influence (dramatic, I know). Most importantly, each person must be honest with who they are and how they present themselves. And I am ready to present and represent this next chapter in my life with a more authentic spirit; a rebirth that will be documented in an upcoming book tentatively titled, Elysian Blues.

With all that said, I officially reclaim my birth surname and henceforth will write, publish, and proclaim myself to be Rod Carlos Rodriguez. All of my currently published books (that are in print) will still be available for purchase and if you’re interested in getting a copy, please search on Amazon ( using my previous pen name of Rod Carlos Stryker or search via my book titles of Native Instincts (Human Error Publishing) and Lucid Affairs (Sun Arts Press). Additionally, my art photography will still be available at

In the meantime, please join me as I begin this journey of rebirth. I look forward to new and continuing adventures as Rod Carlos Rodriguez. Thank you to everyone for your (hopefully unceasing) support in poetry, art, and life.


Peace and poetry,

Rod Carlos Rodriguez, poet

(formerly, Rod Carlos Stryker)

chair – Sun Poet’s Society


Journey’s Bliss

Journeys require
that first step on a new path
before our bliss.


Rod Carlos Rodriguez




Rod Carlos Stryker has left the building…