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Friday, September 28, 2012

Librotraficante in New York Guest Post. La Bloga Represents in Brooklyn.



Rich Villar adjust the mic for Librotraficante and banned book author, Martín Espada 






The Decisive Act: On Orwell, Arizona, and 50 For Freedom
by Rich Villar, special to La Bola


They didn't show up, and I shouldn't be surprised.  A press release was generated, an email address and phone number was distributed, the messages went to the right people, and my phone didn't ring, and no messages hit my inbox.  None of them showed up, and I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, because there are always more important things to be discussed, like Mitt Romney's ignorance about the physics of airplane cabin pressure, or striking football referees, or the technical specs behind the iPhone 5.

There will be no articles written, no reporting, no witness from the press (except for what we do on our own, clearly).  They've got to report on the Presidential election, and the issues surrounding our economy, and health care, and illegal immigration.  No time for a bunch of rabble rousers talking about banned books, books you can still buy on Amazon.  Because if you can still buy things on Amazon, then all is well.

Did you know that Amazon once banned George Orwell's 1984 and Animal Farm?  Of all the books to ban.  Supposedly it was a dispute over rights, but it led to a massive outcry—similar, it could be said, to the outcry over Tucson's book ban.  But it's okay, Amazon said at the time, because it offered refunds to the buyers.  Point being, the technology to control what you read exists.  Point being, if Arizona had known this sooner, perhaps they wouldn't have to physically remove any books from the classroom.

Let's be clear.  The issues in Arizona are only peripherally about books.  Though it should be said, the first thing you do—if your aim to disappear a nation—is to throw their literature in the trash.  Burn it, ban it, box it, just don't read it.  And so they did just that, Arizona: they banned the books, and they boxed the books, and they made the Mexican-American Studies program in Tucson disappear, along with their teachers, along with any mention of it in the schools.  Ah, but they told us, they reassured us, that the books are not banned.  They just can't be used to teach Mexican-Americans about being Mexican-American.  And they told the rest of their teachers, that any attempt to teach any of the banned literature, all 80 titles on the list (it should scare you, to death, that there's a banned books list, and that it used to be a curriculum), could result in their termination, should any complaint about their rabble-rousing content be raised by a concerned parent.  Or, anyone, really.

This is where the story ended, even after Tony Diaz and the group Librotraficante had the audacity to quote the law in public, show its unconstitutional application toward one group of people, report to us the students' discontent, and organize a series of panels and lectures around the years-long battle between Arizona and the teachers, which is still ongoing in the courts.  They told us about the school district suing the former teachers for damages.  They told us about the threats to other people's jobs, to keep them in line, to silence them.  And they (meaning Luis Urrea) told us about the Orwellian implications of banning books, unbanning Shakespeare, and rewriting history, and covering themselves in doublethink and Newspeak.

Aurora Anaya-Cerda, owner of La Casa Azul Bookstore welcomes the SRO crowd, along with Rich Villar
We gathered, though the press did not, last Friday at the 50 For Freedom of Speech reading, because this is not simply about banning books.  Banned author Martín Espada knows that; which is why, when I asked him to do the reading, he brought himself from Amherst, Masschusetts, on his own dime, to be with us, the very night before another reading in Boston.  And banned author Luis Urrea knows that; that's why he drove straight to La Casa Azul from the airport when Tony Diaz made the call.  (And Tony flew up from Houston himself.)  It's about freedom, the fundamental right to know that down is down, and up is up, and that 2 + 2 = 4. 
Sergio Troncoso, Tony Díaz, Martín Espada, Melinda Palacio, Luis Alberto Urrea

What do you think it means when a government entity does not want you to read a book called 500 Years of Chicano History?  Do you honestly believe it has anything to do with the ideology of the authors?  Has anyone in the state of Arizona actually met these authors on the banned list?  They are not concerned with how well the students do in school.  They've admitted that much: despite the success of the program in sending children to college, the program was cancelled anyway.  The state of Arizona is concerned with what, and how, children learn in school.  But it is not the facts they're concerned about, specifically.  It's the narrative they're worried about.  The story.  They are concerned, as Big Brother was concerned, with controlling the past; as Orwell points out to us, whoever controls the past controls the future.

The United States has a past that it would like to forget.  The United States has, in its past, summarily executed brown people, Hispanics and Latinos from every walk of life.  The trouble for Arizona, and everywhere else, is that there are history scholars, activists, students, thinking people, some with U.S. college educations, who had the audacity to write textbooks, and to think to themselves the following: Hispanics and Latinos did not drop from the clear blue sky, or from some mystical war-drawn border.  In Arizona, we're actually learning the same story again, about whitewashed history, and changed facts, and misleading narrative.  We're learning about context, the same kind of context that created activists like Malcolm X, Martin Luther King, Jr., Cesar Chavez, Pedro Albizu Campos, Lolita Lebron, and James Baldwin, who was also banned in Arizona.  Today, it's Mexican-Americans.  Take you pick as to who's next.  Who's due, as it were.  Where the fire will be next time.

If Chicanos have a context, and a history, before the advent of white supremacy, before the advent of European conquest or Pax Americana, there might be a reason for them to walk a little straighter, to understand their histories in context, to see themselves in a continuum from Aztlan, to zoot suits, to The House on Mango Street.  500 years ago, Chicanos existed.  Africa existed.  Latinos existed.  They had just different names.  When will we learn these names?

And when will the media learn to write long pieces about the systemic dismantling of civil rights?  When will they show up to poetry readings by authors on the banned list, in community spaces like La Casa Azul bookstore, in other states besides Arizona and Texas?  When will they tell you about Latinos uniting against their own genocide?  When will they tell you about the counterspells being cast by poets and writers, the ones who still believe in language, and history, and meaning, and roots?

Maybe when they find themselves being downsized, or commanded what to say, by their bosses, by their governments, by financial concerns.  Maybe that day is already here.

What's left for us, poets, Latinos, is to wake up and understand what is happening, to understand it in the context of lightning-fast information being passed and passed over.  We have to speak, and we have to speak often, in new ways and old ways, to keep these fights fresh.  And we must always be ready to tell the world our history, never tiring of the truth, never weary when people tell you they don't get it.  Never scared when the media doesn't show up.
Rich Villar at La Casa Azul (Luis Urrea posing for another photo in background)

And we have to remember love:  that's what was present in massive amounts last Friday at the Casa Azul, and in many places around the country, reading banned literature out loud, casting counterspells into the universe to reverse the trends, defy conventional wisdom, and survive the way we always have.  We have to remember love because our children thrive on it, because we thrive on it, because we will not become automatons unless we allow ourselves to be.  We have to remember love, because love banishes indifference, and because love will keep us rooted, our histories intact, our people whole.

Remember love, now and until the day you die, by reading every book that the state of Arizona tells you not to.  Read them, and quote from them, and steep your children in them.  Love every day, and do not give in to indifference.

While you're at it, write some of these things down.

"To mark the paper was the decisive act."

–George Orwell, 1984



***

Some of Melinda's photos from last weekend's Brooklyn Book Festival

Melinda Palacio works the crowd at the Brooklyn Book Festival

Lucrecia Guerrero, Luis Alberto Urrea, Melinda Palacio, Toni Margarita Plummer, and Reyna Grande at the Brooklyn Book Festival

A trip to Brooklyn would not be complete without a walk across the  Brooklyn Bridge. 

Melinda Palacio and Reyna Grande sightsee.
Toni Margarita Plummer and Melinda Palacio


La Bloga's Melinda Palacio will make a return trip to New York for the Las Comadres y Compadres Writers Conference, Saturday, October 6 in Brooklyn, NY. Don't miss the poetry panel moderated by Rich Villar.

Bloguero Garcia en Albuquerque mañana

LaBloga-ero Rudy Ch. Garcia will do a reading & signing of his Chicano fantasy novel tomorrow Sat. Sept. 29th at 2:00pm in the National Hispanic Cultural Center, 1701 4th St. SW, in Albuquerque. Please inform anyone you think might be interested. The Closet of Discarded Dreams on sale for $16. (NHCC contact Greta Pullen 505-724-4752)



Thursday, January 24, 2008

The Bearable Lightness of Being

In Being Bodies, Lenore Friedman and Susan Moon offer the perspectives of a variety of women with varying Buddhist practices. The result is a contemplative and compelling work dealing with what it means to be female, what it means to fully and consciously inhabit the female body.

The last wave of the Western women’s movement critiqued the idea that a women was her body. In fact, a major focus of that movement was the position that biology was not destiny. This was primarily a response to the social construction of women’s identity, the objectification of a women as nothing more than physical self. However, there was little offered to support women in learning to fully live in that physicality, to know it as both vessel and endpoint.
Being Bodies offers a view that a woman’s self-knowledge is rooted in the flesh. Women’s awareness is based in surrendering to the body’s impermanence, its joy, its suffering, and its death. One of the most thought-provoking essays is Linda Chrisman’s "Birth".

In it, she describes the process of labor, and giving birth to her son. What's striking about this experience was how Chrisman was both deeply enmeshed in that process and separate from it. The most telling lesson, for both Chrisman and the reader, occurred at the height of labor. Here she realizes that all her physical conditioning, all her contemplative practice would not save her from pain. This selection beautifully illustrates the message of
Being Bodies. There may be another path for women, rooted in surrender to the fullness and limits of the body. Through that choice, a woman may find self-knowledge and ultimately, freedom. While the focus of Being Bodies is the female experience, it is a universal and object lesson about Buddhist ideas of impermanence, and becoming fully present in every moment by letting go. I was moved to tears reading this book. It reminds me that true beauty is the sum of both pleasing things as well the scars.

I feel such a strong, visceral connection to the stories of the women profiled in this anthology. (Interesting that "visceral" is the only word that comes to mind in reviewing a book dealing with the experience of being grounded in the body and the odyssey of transcendence.)
This book is a pivotal one as I try to develop a deeper spiritual practice - moving East in order to come West, hoping to re-encounter and reinterpret my own ideas of embodiment, spirituality and existence.

ISBN-10: 1570623244
ISBN-13: 978-157062324

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Acentos and AWP Conference News

On Tuesday, January 29th at 7pm, we break from our normal schedule to bring you ACENTOS on a FIFTH TUESDAY, in conjunction with the Bay Area's own Craig Perez and Achiote Press.

The featured poets that night will be two amazing young writers:

Marina Garcia-Vasquez
, acontributor to the press' ACHIOTE SEEDS, Volume 2, and Javier O. Huerta, author of the acclaimed debut collection, SOME CLARIFICATIONS Y OTROS POEMAS. As always, the Uptown's best open mic will precede the festivities, and your host will be John Rodriguez.

On Thursday, January 31st at 6pm, the Con Tinta collective presents its annual awards dinner and reading.

Lifetime achievement awards are to be presented to Nuyorican writers
Sandra Maria Esteves and Tato Laviera. The dinner will take place at Mojitos', located at 227 E. 116th Street, between 2nd and 3rd Avenue. The reading will be held in conjunction with PALABRA, a journal of Chicano and Latino literary arts. Your hosts for the evening will be Urayoan Noel and Rich Villar.

Finally, on Friday, February 1st at 6:30pm, El Centro de Estudios Puertorriqueños presents ACENTOS: A Gathering of Latino and Latina Poets.

The event is slated to take place at the
School of Social Work at Hunter College, 129 E. 79th Street, at the corner of 79th and Lexington. A lineup of more than 20 emerging and nationally recognized Latino and Latina poets are set to take the stage, including Martin Espada, Sandra Maria Esteves, Brenda Cardenas, Aracelis Girmay, Willie Perdomo, and many more.

It's going to be a busy January for your crew at Acentos, and we wouldn't have it any other way. Keep an eye on this list for further updates, news, features and even more poetry events for the '08, as well as information about our fifth anniversary show in March.

Details for all our January events are listed below. See you all there!

Peaces,
Rich Villar
for the Acentos crew.

Tuesday, January 29th @ 7pm
ACENTOS Bronx Poetry Showcase A reading in collaboration with Achiote Press featuring JAVIER O. HUERTA and MARINA GARCIA-VASQUEZ plus the Uptown's Best Open Mic

The Bruckner Bar and Grill
One Bruckner Blvd. (corner of Third Ave. and Bruckner Blvd.) 6 Train to 138th Street Station Hosted by John Rodriguez FREE! ($5 suggested donation) Thursday, January 31st @ 6pm Con Tinta's Annual Award Ceremony and Reading Honoring the work of Nuyorican poets SANDRA MARIA ESTEVES and TATO LAVIERA Mojitos' Bar 227 E. 116th Street (between 2nd and 3rd Ave.) 6 Train to 116th Street Station Hosted by Urayoan Noel, Rich Villar, and the Con Tinta collective FREE and open to the public.

Friday, February 1st @ 6:30pm ACENTOS: A Gathering and Celebration of Latino and Latina Poets Presented by El Centro de Estudios Puertorriqueños at Hunter College and Acentos Bronx Poetry Showcase

Featuring over twenty emerging and nationally recognized Latino and Latina poets:

The School of Social Work @ Hunter College
129 E. 79th Street (corner of 79th and Lexington) 6 Train to 77th Street Station, two blocks north to 79th and Lex. FREE and open to the public.

Acentos: The Bronx's Premiere Spot for Poetry
http://www.louderarts.com/acentos

"Acentos is one of the best audiences, one of the best venues, I've ever seen. The organizers do a great job, not only in terms of spreading the word, but also in terms of creating anticipation. I feel like I'm part of a community, part of a movement. Aquí estamos y no nos vamos." Martín Espada



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GREAT TEATRO LUNA NEWS!





CURRENTLY PLAYING:
MACHOS



After a sold out run at Chicago Dramatists, MACHOS is moving to the 16th Street Theater in Berwyn, IL, conveniently located near the CTA/Blue Line Austin stop.

Tickets are already on sale, and I hope you will help spread the word!


Here's the scoop:

MACHOS
At 16th Street Theater 4 weeks only! January 25 through – February 17, 2008

Fridays at 7:30 PM Saturdays at 5:00 PM Saturdays at 8:00 PM Sundays at 6:00 PM

BUY TICKETS ONLINE
at www.brownpapertickets.com/event/25539


Lisa Alvarado

Tuesday, March 01, 2011

Sor Juana Conference; Barrio Writers TV; On-Line Floricanto

Major Sor Juana Conference Due at CSULA

mural detail, r.anguiano'93, mexico df.
La Bloga friend Roberto Cantú alerts readers thirsting for academic knowledge and analysis surrounding Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz; prepare to slake that thirst with deep draughts sprung from un manantial of notable scholars at CSULA--not the westside’s LA but the eastside’s LA.

Cantú and staff have filled the conference to the brim with effervescent topics and speakers. For the details, click this link.

http://conferenceonsorjuanainesdelacruz.blogspot.com/


Barrio Writers on OC TV

La Bloga friend and youth mentor, Sara Rafael Garcia, alerts La Bloga readers in Orange County that Barrio Writers is the focus of a television show via local cable, through March 16, 2011.

To download the City of Garden Grove’s press release, containing the full broadcast schedule of the program (Word doc), click here.



On-Line Floricanto Marching into Spring


Selections for the March 2 issue of La Bloga:

1. "Always Here, a poem in response to SB 1070," by Rich Villar

2. "Los Santos Gitanos" by Odilia Galván Rodríguez

3. "Many Walls" by Sarah Browning

4. "Stalking the Divine Under a Desert Full Moon" by Pam Uschuk

5. "Hip-hópera de dos inmigrantes" por Carlos Parada Ayala



ALWAYS HERE

for Arizona and everywhere else

by Rich Villar


lacking a proper entrance
into a poem
about Arizona Senate Bill 1070
prompts me instead
to tell you

about the flamboyanes blooming
in Doña Yeya's mouth
every time she speaks
about her children,
or the pasteles that do not
wrap themselves
until blood is offered to the masa
or the boys she sent to Germany
who came back headless
and quoting Bible verses
or the girls
with twenty years of bruises
at the hands of those same boys
who were told asi es la vida
without the slightest sense of irony
who shouldered Nuyorican babies
dutifully to Bayamón
dreaming about a nation
under which they cannot
legally claim citizenship
or parrandas of gold stomping
flat the Jersey snow
forgetting that coquito
never meant cold weather
or the act of forgetting
beneath every aguinaldo

because civil cafesito
and politics cannot coexist
and we do not question
our birth certificates
unless we are agents of Homeland Security
because we were born American citizens
and as such are eligible to die
at a higher rate
in exchange for houses in Jersey
that we do not own

There are Puerto Ricans
in Arizona and New York and Nebraska and
I promise you good gente
it makes no difference
if your grandmother conjures
Michoacan or Mayaguez
in her flowered breath
it makes no difference
if you bless the four winds
or pray to San Juan Bautista

to those who only see papers
and brown flesh
who cannot locate your cities
on the maps
of conquerors or conquered

you are a threat

and if this is the case
gente
I say
Be a threat. Unquieted,
bloom where you are not permitted
to bloom. Disjointed,
walk anywhere you please, stumble
if you must, but be present.
And when they ask you
where you keep your company,
tell them here, here,
always here.

-Rich Villar, 2011





(This is the poem I read at the Floricanto in DC Saturday, February 5 2011 in front of the US Capitol)

Los Santos Gitanos*

For workers everywhere, to all farm workers, factory workers, restaurant and hotel workers, and yes our soldiers ~ especially all those who believe that their only alternative to working for drug dealers or drug cartels is signing up for military service …

by Odilia Galván Rodríguez


metal tongues
caught and
squeezed
in two hands
gypsy woman
catches the wind
rushing through
valleys across this nation

hot earth gasping we inhale
sighing our deep breaths
escape in your sweet bellows
gypsy man play our songs
bleed out our tears shout
about torn hands ripped

by their crowns of thorns
stuck in the white
cash crop

we’ve picked the pieces
endless miles that never stop
pounds carried on our stooped
backs held in the downy soft
canvas bags snaking long
behind us in rows we chop chop
chop an eternity like picking
lice from children’s heads

we cry the shame all our pain
is screamed out in your songs
gypsy woman play it say
it’s okay to wail roar out
the bad winds that catch
in our throats los yantos
want to escape and they leap free
from our newly parted chests

we are reflected in the songs of these saints
who follow us like guardian angels
from camp to camp singing and
playing out our inner most
hopes our dreams offered up
sheer sound shouted long
loud enough to reach heaven
blow open the gates and there
are no harps just the caterwauls
these gypsies always played
on their live breathing squeeze boxes

©Odilia Galván Rodríguez, 2002 from Migratory Birds: New and Noted Poems

*The Gypsy Saints
~ refers to those musicians who followed the migrant stream from labor camp to labor camp across the US.




Many Walls

by Sarah Browning


On the border with Mexico
we call it a fence, as if
to lean on its top, chat
with those neighbors
to the south, trade rakes,
trade gossip. Call it a fence,
call it a gate, call it good –
still, Nogales, Arizona,
Nogales, Sonora: trench,
ground sensors, infrared
night-vision scopes.

In Palestine, the land’s already
been taken – families on one side,
orange groves on the other.
Ours is a culture of many walls
the Saudi poet writes
in her email. Translated
into Japanese, her poems
vault the high barriers
of this world. Young people
sat on the Berlin Wall
and waved the flags
of their future.

I want a flag that waves
like that, for bricks
that go home in tourist
luggage, for the Saudi poet
and her sisters, for touch.
I want the flag of touch,
the flag of men waiting
for work in the morning
chill of the 7-11 parking lot,
the flag of nannies
pushing strollers to the park
for fellowship and swings,
flag of the women
who spend each day
changing the soiled sheets
of their new country.

I want the flag of talking,
of sitting on the disintegrating
wall and gabbing, gossiping,
negotiating, waving that flag
of no walls. That flag.

© Sarah Browning
This poem first appeared in The Tidal Basin Review.




STALKING THE DIVINE UNDER A DESERT FULL MOON

by Pam Uschuk



I.

Bleached as the bones of migatory birds, broken
stones powder the foothills above Phoenix’s million lights.
What shadows mark the true currency
of freedom's long journey into the divine?

The arms of Saguaros rise like so many immigrants
pinned to night sky, twisted and begging
stars from the deaf hands of Gods
whose language of NO clicks like bullets shoved
into the chambers of ignorance and disdain.

II.

We are not afraid of rattlers,
refugees whisper to crushed granite
that doesn’t believe them,
not afraid of the sidelong skitter
of the fanged tarantula looking for a mate
or the Gila Monster, its hide beaded
as a bag slung over the bare shoulder of a night queen.

We are not afraid of javelinas who materialize
to stampede, clattering through creosote bushes
on either side of our legs, they say,
knowing their skin is vulnerable
as tears smearing la migra’s indifferent fists.

II.

How did they finally arrive in this place
from the slums of Nogales,
Guerrero’s empty stomach
or a busted maiz farm in Chiapas?
Stars shatter like the headlights of Border Patrol trucks
on impact with their starving shoulders
at the edge of infrared sights.

Desert wind scours this emptiness,
a lock-jawed wind disguised as law
emptying hatred like molten tar
into callouses pocking poor hands
offered to this country’s needs.

III.

We do not fear the owl, heavy horned
and menacing a mesquite, owl landing
like a small boulder thrown into lacey limbs, owl
whose eyes are chiseled from yellow ice,
asking who,
who, who is next?

IV.

Blue dwarfs spin near Scorpio poised
to sting the Southern horizon
where moon lifts her saffron robes
into acetylene white, blind
as the scald of searchlights on a child’s terrified face,
blind as the metal bite of handcuffs
on a father’s wrists, blind as
a mother’s belief in a better life for her kids.

V.

Walking the desert, we learn
our places, learn the strict edicts
of talons and venom, of wild pigs
who materialize to surround us, popping
scimitar teeth, slitting thighs
and torsos to bare ribs, learn
finally that borders
are merciless as the promise of safe haven,
and the avenging angels of governors
that snuff out the small songs of our lives.

We do not fear any of them.
Moon, oh Moon, we do not shrink
from your luminous heart
transforming desert dust to silver.
As you ascend the nexus of dark, teach us
to flex our free
wings
which can never be legislated
even when our tongues offend the unjust
who would extinguish our common human fire.

@ Pamela Uschuk
from WILD IN THE PLAZA OF MEMORY





Hip-hópera de dos inmigrantes

por Carlos Parada Ayala



I. Chirilagua Blues

Yo soy de Chirilagua,
mi mujer de Intipucá.
Trabajo día y noche,
vivo en una cruel ciudad.

A mi me deportaron,
pero me volví a colar.
Yo era indocumentado,
y ahora tengo la “green card”.

Yo me metí sin nada,
tenía solo una ilusión:
pasar de jornalero
y llegar a ser patrón.

Me traje a mis dos hijos
a una escuela refinada.
Uno de ellos me dijo,
“Padre, tú no estás en nada”.

Mi mujer no me aguanta,
dice que ya no la quiero;
pero es que en los United,
el trabajo está primero.

Un hijo fue a la guerra,
lo mataron en Iraq.
El otro está en la cárcel
de donde nunca saldrá.

¿Qué ondas con esas armas
masivas de destrucción?
Los gobernantes mienten
hasta por televisión.

Con toda esta experiencia
puedo ver la luz del día:
el sueño americano
es una horrible pesadilla.

Yo soy de Chirilagua,
mi mujer de Intipucá.
Trabajo día y noche,
vivo en una cruel ciudad.


II. Peregrino

Yo crucé la frontera porque no tenía otra opción.
En mi patria el gobierno ha perdido la razón.
No se encuentra trabajo ni hay libertad de expresión.
La gente espera y lucha pero no ve solución.
Este es el resultado de la globalización.
Por eso vine al Norte a buscar la salvación.

Trabajo día y noche para salir adelante.
“Ladrillo por ladrillo te conviertes en gigante”.
Así dicen la prensa y hasta algunos gobernantes.
Ese es como un castigo en extremo sofocante.
Pero así seguiré hasta que la migra me levante,
y volveré a colarme aunque esta gente no me aguante.

Yo soy el peregrino que construye el porvenir.
Yo no vine en barco pero a pié me vi salir.
Mi barco fue el mercado que se encarga en dividir
a ricos y a pobres que nadie va a consentir.
Así cruce fronteras a pesar de mi sufrir.
Nací indocumentado y así me voy a morir.

Pidiendo los papeles he pasado muchos años.
Me piden evidencia, archivos de este tamaño.
Quieren asegurarse que no les causaré daño.
Yo no soy terrorista, ni soy bestia de rebaño.
Y aunque pase la vida sometido a sus engaños:
Sin visa llegaron los peregrinos de antaño.

© Carlos Parada Ayala




BIOS

1. "Always Here, a poem in response to SB 1070," by Rich Villar

2. "Los Santos Gitanos" by Odilia Galván Rodríguez

3. "Many Walls" by Sarah Browning

4. "Stalking the Divine Under a Desert Full Moon" by Pam Uschuk

5. "Hip-hópera de dos inmigrantes" por Carlos Parada Ayala

Rich Villar


Odilia Galván RodríguezOdilia Galván Rodríguez, is a poet/activist and healer. She has been involved in social justice organizing and helping people find their creative and spiritual voice for over two decades through facilitating creative writing workshops. Odilia is a moderator and one of the founding members of Poets Responding to SB 1070 on facebook.



Sarah BrowningSarah Browning is director of Split This Rock, a national organization dedicated to integrating the poetry of provocation and witness into public life and supporting the poets who write this vital work. She is an Associate Fellow of the Institute for Policy Studies, Poetry Co-Editor of On The Issues Magazine, author of Whiskey in the Garden of Eden (The Word Works, 2007), and co-editor of D.C. Poets Against the War: An Anthology (Argonne House Press, 2004). The recipient of an artist fellowship from the DC Commission on the Arts & Humanities, she has also received a Creative Communities Initiative grant and the People Before Profits Poetry Prize. She co-hosts the Sunday Kind of Love reading series at Busboys and Poets in Washington, DC, where she lives with her husband and son.

Pam UschukCalled by BLOOMSBURY REVIEW, “one of the most insightful and spirited poets today,” Pamela Uschuk’s five books of poems including her latest, CRAZY LOVE (2009, Wings Press), winner of the 2010 American Book Award.

Translated into a dozen languages, Uschuk’s work has appeared in nearly 300 publications, including POETRY, AGNI, and PLOUGHSHARES. Among her awards are the 2010 NEW MILLENIUM POETRY PRIZE, 2010 Best of the Web, and prize from the Struga Poetry Festival,National League of American PEN Women, Chester H. Jones Foundation, AMNESTY INTERNATIONAL and others.

Uschuk teaches at Fort Lewis College, directs the Southwest Writers Institute and is Editor-In-Chief of CUTTHROAT, A JOURNAL OF THE ARTS. She is the Hodges Visiting Writer at Univesity of Tennessee, Knoxville during spring semester 2011. She makes her home with the poet William Pitt Root, a white wolf, a rescue dog and a cat in Bayfield, CO.

Carlos Parada AyalaCarlos Parada Ayala (San Juan Opico, El Salvador, 1956). Ganador del premio de poesía Larry Neal de la Comisión de las Artes de Washington, DC, Carlos Parada Ayala es co-editor de la antología Al pie de la Casa Blanca: Poetas hispanos de Washington, DC publicada por la Academia Norteamericana de la Lengua Española (Nueva York, julio de 2010). Esta obra, co-editada con el poeta argentino Luis Alberto Ambroggio, fue seleccionada en septiembre de 2010 por la Biblioteca del Congreso de Estados Unidos para celebrar 400 años de poesía hispana en Estados Unidos. Parada Ayala tiene una licenciatura en literatura española, latinoamericana, y brasileña de Amherst College, Massachusetts. Es miembro del grupo de poetas salvadoreños Alta hora de la noche y es uno de los fundadores de ParaEsoLaPalabra, un colectivo de escritores, artistas y activistas cuyo objetivo es promover las artes, la música y la literatura en las comunidades de habla hispana de la zona metropolitana de Washington, DC.


A recipient of Washington, DC’s, Commission on the Arts Larry Neal Poetry Award in 2005, Carlos Parada Ayala co-edited the anthology Al pie de la Casa Blanca: Poetas hispanos de Washington, DC published by the North American Academy of the Spanish Language in New York in July 2010. Co-edited with Argentinean poet Luis Alberto Ambroggio, the US Library of Congress selected this anthology to celebrate 400 years of Hispanic poetry in the United States in September of 2010. Parada Ayala graduated from Amherst College, Massachusetts, with a degree in Spanish, Latin American and Brazilian literature. He is a member of the Salvadoran poetry collective Late Night Hour, and is a founding member of ParaEsoLaPalabra, a collective of writers, artists and activists whose goal is to promote the arts, music and literature in the Spanish speaking communities of the Washington, DC metropolitan area.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Various Voices: Prose, Poetry, Politics


Various Voices is a collection of letters, essays, interviews, short prose fiction and poetry. Pinter wrote to directors and newspaper editors and critics in response to questions and reviews of his plays. He states his plays speak for themselves and that the characters in them don’t have any concrete histories, either before or after what has happened on the stage.

Pinter states he can't legitimately comment on the meanings of his work, because once written, it has an independent life of its own. Even during the writing process his control over the work is limited, because the characters themselves dictate how they act and speak; Pinter states is simply there to keep the shape and structure of the play. He believes that his writing is instinctual and intuitive:
"There’s no aim. I do not have an ideology in my plays. I just write; I’m a very instinctive writer. I don’t have a calculated aim or ambition; I simply find myself writing something which then follows its own path."

Starting with a concrete visual image or verbal impulse, Pinter creates the characters that fit. He describes the writing process as painful, but that's how he knows he is on the right path. In a typical Pinteresque spin, he writes that he's being unfaithful to the characters if they emerge too easily.
He speaks of language as ‘highly ambiguous business’ because we're all inundated with a barrage of words in our everyday lives, a barrage that many times carries little or no real meaning.

It's this ambiguity every writer must break through, "such a weight of words... the bulk of it a stale dead terminology; ideas...platitudinous, trite, meaningless."
But he advocates confronting this, looking underneath what the words are saying, looking at what isn’t being given, what isn't said. Pinter believes there are two kinds of silences, when nothing is being said and when there is a ‘torrent of language.’ In both these cases there is a hidden language and it is here that the writer confronts the truths of his characters, it is here that they ‘possess a momentum of their own.’


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Palabra Pura This Month


Palabra Pura, Chicago's home for cutting edge, innovative Latino poetry is evolving in exciting ways, with its 2008 calendar of stellar talent solidly in place. While still basing itself at the California Clipper, Palabra Pura has begun to also hold events at Latino venues throughout the city. This month, join the fabulous writers profiled below. The skinny:

Wednesday,
March 19th. 8:30 pm California Clipper
1002 N. California. Chicago, IL




Aracelis Girmay writes poetry, fiction, & essays. Teeth, her collection of poems, was published by Curbstone Press in June 2007. Her poetry has appeared in Ploughshares, Bellevue Literary Review, Indiana Review, Callaloo, & MiPoesias, among other journals. Her collage-based picture book, changing, changing, was published by George Braziller in 2005. Girmay is a Cave Canem Fellow & former Watson Fellow. She teaches writing workshops in New York & California.


olga m ulloa
Born in Matanzas, Cuba, 1958. Grew up in Madrid, Spain. Family came to Chicago in mid 1970’s. After college and grad school, worked as a Spanish language teacher for the City Colleges of Chicago for a year, long enough to realize that teaching was not in the stars. Since then has worked as a free-lance editor, translator, and writer. During the 80s and 90s lived in New York City, Philadelphia, Washington DC, and Miami for brief periods, always returning to Chicago as home base. Moved to Costa Rica in the mid nineties and after three years once again returned to Chicago. Writing has always been the constant objective, while art, literature, photography, and music create the background chorus.

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From Rich Villar and Acentos

Lord,
on 8th Street
between 6th Avenue and Broadway
there are enough shoe stores
with enough shoes
to make me wonder
why there are shoeless people
on the earth.

Lord,
You have to fire the Angel
in charge of distribution.

--"Psalm For Distribution"
by Jack Agüeros
(from LORD, IS THIS A PSALM?, Hanging Loose Press 2002)

Dear friends and colleagues:

I'm writing to you about a friend of ours: Jack Agüeros.

I say "friend," not because I have known Jack for decades (I haven't), but because of what Jack's work has meant to the writers, artists, and activists here in New York City's Puerto Rican communities. In these decades, through his work as a poet, translator, fiction writer, and community organizer, Jack Agüeros has spoken to us with clarity, humility, intensity, and dignity about our shared experiences as Puerto Ricans.

As a community activist, he worked with the Henry Street Settlement, the Puerto Rican Community Development Project, and various city agencies. As a journalist and essayist, he has written about the alliances between Chicano and Puerto Rican activists, and about his own life as a Puerto Rican in New York. As an invaluable historian, he has translated and researched the work of Jose Martí and Julia de Burgos. Through his ingenious use of the sonnet and psalm forms, he has perfected the very human art of advocacy, conveying our struggles with unflinching imagery and a smart comedic sensibility. As a cultural worker, Agüeros brought art, music and a Three Kings' Day parade (with real camels) to East Harlem through his stewardship of El Museo del Barrio.

Jack Agüeros has committed his life to the educational and social wellbeing of his people. Now is our chance to contribute to his wellbeing.

For quite a while now, Jack and his family have been dealing with the onset of his Alzheimer's Disease. It's been a difficult time, but the family has always been able to count on the support of friends and loved ones. That support will be made palpable on Tuesday, March 18th, when Jack's friends and family will come together for a benefit reading at Taller Boricua, in the Julia de Burgos Center, in the heart of Jack's birthplace, East Harlem. The location—1680 Lexington Avenue at the corner of 106th Street--is particularly appropriate, since the Center is named for the famous Puerto Rican poet whose work Jack translated, and is also the former home of P.S. 107, where Jack attended grammar school.

Scheduled to appear that night will be fellow poets, fiction writers, and kindred spirits who know and love Jack, many of whom are longtime friends of his: Martín Espada, Sandra Maria Esteves, Naomi Ayala, Aracelis Girmay, Lidia Torres, Robert Hershon, Donna Brook, Hettie Jones, Lynne Procope, Rich Villar, Tara Betts, Rachel Eliza Griffiths, Julio Marzán, and Edgardo Vega Yunqué. His children, Kadi, Natalia, and Marcel Agüeros, will also be on hand.

The event starts at 7pm with a special performance by the young students of Taller Boricua's Tuesday dance class, who were gracious enough to move their gathering in order to accomodate this event.

The authors will have books for sale, the proceeds for which will go toward Jack's care. Signed copies of Jack's books, including DOMINOES, SONNETS FOR THE PUERTO RICAN, and LORD, IS THIS A PSALM? will also be available, courtesy of Hanging Loose Press and Curbstone Press. In addition, Sandra Maria Esteves has graciously donated one of her prints, which will be bid upon in a silent auction that night.

A $10 suggested donation will be collected at the door. No one will be turned away.

If you cannot make it to the fundraiser, but would still like to make a contribution toward Jack's care, you can send along a check payable to Marcel Agüeros at the following address:

Marcel Agüeros
Columbia Astrophysics Laboratory
Mail Code 5247
550 W. 120th Street
New York, NY 10027

This is our chance to pay tribute to a true giant of Puerto Rican, Latino, and U.S. literature. Please distribute this letter far and wide, to as many as possible. We hope to see you all in East Harlem on March 18th, 7pm sharp.

Pa'lante,
Rich Villar.


Lisa Alvarado

Thursday, July 19, 2007

louderArts y Acentos -- Getting to the Heart of the Matter

L-R -- La Familia Acentos: Sam "Fish" Vargas, Maria Nieves, Oscar Bermeo, Ed Garcia, Raymond Daniel Medina, and Rich Villar. Photo courtesy of Peter Dressel


Today's column is about the unstoppable, about what community, strong words and strong voices can do. We'll be talking to one of the louderARTS/Acentos collective, Rich Villar, but first let's take a look at the group and what they're committed to do.

The louderARTS Project is a not-for-profit arts corporation committed to developing constructive and challenging spaces for artists to create, critique, present, and teach poetry.

The louderARTS Project seeks to:

• create a literary and artistic environment for both its artists and audience by expanding perspective, voice and critical vocabulary.

• sponsor literary arts programming in underserved communities.

• encourage experimentation and growth by its artists by creating opportunities to craft and present collaborative, cross-genre work incorporating mixed media, music, dance, and theatrical elements.

• foster a deeper understanding, within its artists and audience, of the oral and literary traditions which underlie today's poetry.

• work in partnership with other organizations to maximize the strengths and expertise of each.

The louderARTS Project is dedicated to uniting the various worlds of poetry (writing and performing, traditionalist structure and slam form, study and action, personal and political, solitary and collaborative, genre-specific and genre-bending), in a way that is both altruistic and personally and artistically evolutionary.



ACENTOS BRONX POETRY SHOWCASE


"Acentos is one of the best audiences, one of the best venues, I've ever seen. The organizers do a great job, not only in terms of spreading the word, but also in terms of creating anticipation. I feel like I'm part of a community, part of a movement. Aquí estamos y no nos vamos." Martín Espada

The debate may rage forever as to who or what constitutes Latino poetry. Here, there is no such identity crisis. We are already here, writing the histories of our neighborhoods, following the traditions of our ancestors, as well as the poetic traditions that came before us. To paraphrase Baldwin, the poet's task as historian is to keep the story new, even when the telling is costly. This is the aesthetic we foster at Acentos. It is always about the word, the work, and it all begins here.

Poetry, we believe, provides the most honest witness to our world, and it is among the oldest art forms on earth. Each poet is a breathing history, and we invite each poet to ring out in his or her own distinctive voice. Acentos celebrates a diversity of voices, communidad both on the open mic and within the universe of Latino and Latina poets on our feature stage.

Acentos Bronx Poetry Showcase is committed to maintaining a safe open space for the expression and enjoyment of poetry, no matter what the language, without translation or apology. Each reading is a celebration of our work as colleagues, friends, and family.

Proudly based in the Mott Haven section of the Bronx, New York, at the Bruckner Bar and Grill (Corner of Third Avenue and Bruckner Boulevard), Acentos showcases nationally recognized Latino and Latina poets alongside emerging voices every second and fourth Tuesday of the month in a setting designed to foster an increased sense of community.

Acentos Bronx Poetry Showcase
2nd and 4th Tuesdays @ 7:00 pm
The Bruckner Bar & Grill
1 Bruckner Boulevard (Corner of Third Avenue)
Bronx, NY
6 Train to 138th Street
FREE ($5 Suggested Donation)

For more information, write to:
acentos at louderarts dot com

For a full listing of scheduled features for Spring and Summer 2007, visit us on MySpace: myspace.com/acentosbronxpoetryshowcase


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The following is my interview with Rich Villar, one of the louderARTS/Acentos collective, a poet and writer, and someone whose writing leaves an indelible mark in your mind. Before you read Rich on where he came from and what needs to be done, let me say a few words about his poetry.

It is frank, sinewy writing, the kind that lays bare those naked truths of the heart, of experience, unafraid to reveal where the scar tissue is. It's about loss and familia, but also stubborn in the ways it frames the set pieces of madre y padre without sentimentality and outside the stereotypes. But don't think that the depth of feeling isn't there....it rises up from the page, raw and tender and that same time. Read some of his poetry and feel your heart break open.

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Describe your odyssey in becoming a writer. How does Puerto Rican identity and a New York sensibility influence your work? What would you say are your major influences, both personally and in a literary sense?


I attended fundamentalist Christian schools during my entire childhood in Northern New Jersey. Given that backdrop, my teachers encouraged me to read a lot of Bob Jones and Charles Dickens and write more poems about Jesus. But in college, a no-goodnik left-wing Literature professor taught me how to close-read poems and introduced me to the Beat poets and James Baldwin. I spent another few years writing occasional Allen Ginsburg ripoffs, and attending some poetry slams.

Two things happened in 2003: I came across the louderARTS Project, and I heard the work of Martín Espada. Martín was the writer who finally gave me permission to write about the things I cared about, in the language(s) I grew up with. The louderARTS Project and the Acentos reading series gave me the forum, the circle of friends, and the tough love I needed to stretch in my work. Coincidentally, Jesus started showing up in my work too, but he sounded far more conflicted than he did in my high school days.

I name the world through the lenses I see it with: my identities (Puerto Rican, Cuban, American, Latino), my family, my histories, my politics, my home. Any honest work I do must reflect these things one way or another, even when the poem is not explicitly about them. I am not a New York writer per se, but my experiences growing up and learning to write were not that different from the Nuyoricans in the Bronx, El Barrio, or on the Lower East Side. Reading Pedro Pietri really put that into focus for me. In the suburbs of Paterson, NJ, we didn't always sweat the rent or the heat, but we lived our own "Puerto Rican Obituary" under the thumb of the mortgage company and the credit card bills. My family is populated by viejitas like Pietri's "Tata." These are the real terms, people, places, and things which I find I MUST write for and about, in my own languages, in order to stay true in my writing and career.

I would say that my most important mentor thus far has been Martín Espada. He is far and away the most clear and steadfast example on why we must continue writing, how the successful writer must always be guided by principle, by comunidad. His friendship and leadership have proven invaluable to me and to his many brilliant students. The literary world is littered with too many established writers who make it a habit to "piss on the shoes of their disciples," (to quote the poet), and Martín is a much-needed oasis from that nonsense.

My creative influences are varied: Willie Perdomo taught me to be fearless in my use of language. Miles Davis and James Baldwin taught me that I must always keep it new. La Lupe and Celia Cruz keep my art unapologetic. Espada, Neruda and Mistral remind me that my writing can be historic. Chuck Close and Compay Segundo taught me persistence. The poets of Acentos and louderARTS are my backbone. My parents have supported me 1000% (even when they didn't know why). And I must say, there is no greater reminder of work ethic than when you are the daily recipient of love, spirit, and support from another poet: in my case, my amazing partner, Ms. Tara Betts.

How would you describe the significance of spoken word and slam poetry, compared to more 'traditional' forms?

I came from it. I think it's a great starting place for young poets. (Emphasis on STARTING.) I hate what it's become. But let me first speak to the tradition question.

Another poet, John Rodriguez, brought this point up the other night at an Acentos reading. Those of us Latino/a poets who come from spoken word and slam come from the tradition of hearing poems, more than we do from reading text. This is not to say we are not well read, or that we can't craft a decent poem on a piece of paper. For us, the poem is a communal experience, a shout, a humanizing music that needs to be heard out loud. In New York, this is nothing new. The "slam and spoken word tradition," so to speak, is significant in that it's really a Puertorriqueño tradition, an African-American tradition, the Nuyoricans, the Black Arts movement, and the tradition of much of Latin America. Spoken word and slam thus hearken back to poetry's root orality, a root unbroken since the Sumerians, yet one which we've forgotten somewhere along the line.

Many slam poets have gone on to careers in academia, bohemia, and back. Many do cutting-edge work with music, or work in the genres of sound poetry. And a few have even made viable careers out of being spoken word artists. It's fair to say that spoken word and slam serve well as breeding grounds for talent that wouldn't have come to poetry any other way but through the ear.

Having said that, I really hate what spoken word has become. The term is used with increasing abandon to sell out poetry to the highest bidder. It has become a world of back-slapping sycophants jockeying for what little money is out there on the college circuit. Of particular concern to me is the phenomenon of the spoken word pimp: the unscrupulous agent or manager who will gather a troupe of spoken word mavens and sell them as a package to colleges, often pocketing a big chunk of the fees. The talent, more often than not, is none the wiser. Maddeningly, some of them are kids, fresh from the world of teen slams.

Far too many of these young and emerging writers swallow the spoken word line wholesale, choosing not to push their visual art or publish their written art, relying on the antiquated standbys of poetry "for page" and poetry "for stage." Far too many choose not to read other poets, claiming to defend some ridiculous notion of purity in their art. And far too many entities on the college circuit or in the media lazily accept these definitions, paying thousands of dollars to perpetuate bad theater passed off as "performance poetry" or "spoken word." And don't get me started on how some critics tend to view it all as an offshoot of hip-hop, deriding otherwise promising young poets of color as mere "spoken word artists," rendering their work mute. Spoken word, once promising, is now a running joke, a cartoon show that the characters don't even know they're on.

Here is the end result. By selling themselves short as "spoken word artists," many otherwise emerging poets sacrifice any chance they have to improve in their work and move into something that pushes the forms. And for what? At the Grammys this year, there was a tie for Best Spoken Word Album between Ossie Davis and Ruby Dee, and Jimmy Carter. Obviously, none of these people are "spoken word artists ." Not even the recording industry is buying this nonsense. At the end of his or her shelf life as performers, the average spoken word poet is left with no real writing skill or experience, no real performance skill or experience, and no resume except for slam wins and tour stops. I submit that this American Capitalistic model of touring minstrelsy is no way to promote poetry to our youth, and to whatever extent that we as educators have the power to stop it, we absolutely should.

You're involved with louderARTS Project and Acentos in New York. Tell us about these, their goals, their audiences. What would you say are these projects' contribution to the local and national poetry scene?

The louderARTS Project started life as a weekly reading, open mic, and slam series called "a little bit louder," founded by three poets from the 1998 Nuyorican Poets' Cafe slam team: Lynne Procope, Roger Bonair-Agard, and Guy LeCharles Gonzalez. Their mission was to read, workshop, and perform their work with an emphasis on excellence; to improve the work and present it well. These core missions were expanded upon through public workshops, themed readings, and other public performances. They have managed to create a multicultural, multi-genre community of artists, writers, and educators from around the country, and many of them have come to view the reading series at Bar 13 in Union Square as the place to experience poetry as a transformative experience. The series will celebrate its tenth anniversary in April of 2008.

Building from the louderARTS model and from anecdotes of the old 6th Street Nuyorican Cafe, poets Oscar Bermeo and Sam "Fish" Vargas co-founded the Acentos Bronx Poetry Showcase in March of 2003 (I came on board in June of that year). There were precious few Latino poets active in the downtown poet scenes, so the intent with Acentos was to bring Latinos and Latinas into a new venue, in the South Bronx, where one could share work without the need to translate every nuance present in Spanish, English, and Spanglish. Four years later, we've built the series into a staple of the Bronx arts scene, a space where poets and audience regardless of nationality can come in, feel at home, and share new work in an open and honest environment. We've featured Latino/a poets of every stripe, from all parts of the country, and four of our core members (myself, Oscar, Fish, and Jessica Torres) participated in readings and workshops all around the region spreading the gospel of Latino poetry.

Fish and I continue to run the series along with a dedicated cadre of emerging poets who have claimed the venue as their home. We are working this fifth year to expand Acentos' mission into a Foundation for Latino/a poetry nationwide, modeled on Cave Canem. We hope to have a yearly Latino writers' retreat up and running by summer of '08, as well as writing programs for Latino/a youth in the Bronx. Point blank, poetry by Latinos has gone largely ignored by the literary establishment. We want to do our part to change that, and the best way we know how is to create the spaces necessary for writers to stretch, develop, and distribute their work.

What's it been like working collectively to maintain these projects?

I would not be able to run Acentos by myself, especially with these new growth ideas, were it not for the support of the following poets: Oscar Bermeo, Fish Vargas, Maria Nieves, Jessica Torres, Eliel Lucero, Ray Medina, Aracelis Girmay, John Murillo, John Rodriguez, Urayoan Noel, and Raina Leon.

Likewise, the louderARTS Project would be nowhere without its resident louderARTISTS: Lynne Procope, Roger Bonair-Agard, Marty McConnell, Rachel McKibbens, Ray Medina, Mara Jebsen, Emily Kagan, Elana Bell, Fish Vargas, Abena Koomson, and Matt Siegel.

Not to mention the people that come in and out of our spaces on a daily basis, the audiences who actually watch this stuff instead of going home to watch Dancing with the Stars.

My work with Acentos and louderARTS is unlike any job I've ever had, and unlike any free time I've ever spent. This is work with purpose, with mission, and these artists have been my surrogate family. They have driven me to continue producing new work, to live the life of a poet and not that of an automaton. We listen to our guests, we read new work, we exchange ideas. While as colleagues we have our rough patches sometimes, I highly recommend the collaborative approach, especially when there are so many things that need to be done organizationally. You choose your mission, and you execute it with the right people. Punto. Plus, being in a circle of working artists is absolutely vital to guard against the "Organizer's Syndrome," in which you end up doing everything but write. I can't be uncreative when I'm surrounded by creative people.

How would you describe your connection to young writers as it relates to your creative life?

I am only 29 years old, and I haven't published a book yet, so I hope I'm still perceived as a young writer myself. Having said that, writing is ultimately an attempt to live forever. You write with the hope that what you say has meaning, that it will be archived, and that the writers who come after you learn from your mistakes, imitate your triumphs, and build upon both. So I'm connected to young writers in the abstract, as I should be. More directly, some of my best moments as a poet have come watching my students in workshop take some seed of direction and run with a new idea, along with the understanding that each one of them has a unique story that only he or she can tell. The most satisfying connection with a young writer is that mutual "oh, shit!" moment that comes with a brilliant line—one that the young writer came up with on his or her own. It's a small victory, but still very gratifying.

In regards to your own poetry, what would you describe as your major themes?

I write a lot about my family, because they've seen it all. Through their eyes I can deconstruct the politics of place, gender, and religion; the lies behind machismo; the tragedies of alcoholism. A lot of my work meanders between the city and the suburbs, as I have tended to do in real life. Music always makes its way into my work, and lately I've been experimenting with form to volley it back into the air. Technique-wise, I am interested in matters of language, translation, and wordplay, because there are some emotional landscapes I can only navigate in the chopped-up half-languages of Spanglish.

What are your core strengths as a writer.... where would you like to see yourself grow?

I am good at litany. I can make most people laugh in person and in my writing. I have learned (am still learning) how to render poetry from my everyday speech. My sardonic wit is pretty sharp. I need more formal training, more art-historical perspective, more of that book-learnin'. I've done a great of deal of work outside the classroom, but starting in September, I will be studying with Rigoberto Gonzalez and others at Rutgers-Newark's new MFA program.

Where do you see yourself in ten years, personally and creatively?


Writing, publishing, collaborating. Maybe writing more fiction. Hopefully with an active role in a vibrant community of Latino and Latina poets. Teaching somewhere, hopefully with my beautiful partner at my side. I'd like to own a house, but New York is crazy expensive, so we may have to invest in our own log cabin somewhere in Appalachia. Of course, if that happens, Betts and I will have to call Frank X. Walker and crew and hold Affrilachian poetry workshops on the front porch.

What's something not in the official bio?

If they ever made a movie out of the cartoon show Thundercats, I would literally drop everything in sight to be at a midnight screening at the Whitestone Cinemas in the Bronx. I am a thorough nerdlet for 80's cartoon nostalgia. I'm already geeked for Transformers.


POEMS BY RICH VILLAR



My Mother Responds to the Question, "So What Were You Thinking the Day After I Was Born?"

They gave me a yellow baby, with yellow eyes,
a needle because the hospital has rules, right.
No need to poison any other babies with my blood.
Bullshit, I thought, who the hell wants to do this again?
Three is plenty. I wanted a Ricky,
just because I wanted the name to jump,
jump down the crib and run around the house,
laughing, imagining, naked.
That's not poetry, either. I mean really naked.
You wouldn't wear your diaper. Ever.
Oh.
You mean the first day? Sorry. They let me stay quite a while,
not like now, they barely let you heal
these days. I realized you were not blind
when I held your father's Marlboros over your head.
You followed the small box, transfixed by red.
I tried other colors too, but red was always your favorite,
you didn't get that from me, or your father,
everything for me is green, was green: the kitchen,
the car, my clothes, your clothes. You always hated clothes.
I wonder why.
Yes, the first day. Hell, what do I know,
it was the first day, I was exhausted, your father was at work,
there were no cell phones in those days,
the neighbor took me to the hospital,
it was 8:30, on the dot,
when you were born. I wanted a Ricky,
I already had a Dooley and a Chrissy
and your father wanted one more chance, so he brought me
roses on Valentine's Day (he never gives me flowers)
and nine months later, here he comes, tromping into the room
with his best friend, smiling.
He used to put you in his shirt pocket, he said.
But yes. The first day was all injections and charts and nods
and your brother wasn't an alcoholic yet and your sister still
listened to me and your father and I were almost married
and every time I held the red box above your head,
you would peel back your gums and wail beautifully,
and I spent the first of three days healing.



Six Attempts to Get My Father To Speak About the Day After My Birth

I.

mira. mira.
aqui tengo tu poema.

oiga:

Este mundo es un relajo.
En forma de un gallinero.
Los que subieron primero.
Cagaran en los de abajo.
Pero si viene un guanajo.
No ligerito de peso.
Pue'ser que se quiebre el gajo.
Y los de arriba y los de abajo.
Se vayan to' pa'l carajo.

ah, ¿no te gu'ta?
pue', oye e'to.

Yo se que tú eres poeta.
y que del aire lo compone'.
Pon'te un farol en culo.
Y alúmbrate los cojones.


II.

en verdad. no recuerdo.
pipo, necesito un favor.
bú'came las carreras seis a doce de santa anita.
notalo en un papelito y trai'lo pa'rriba.


III.

¿que? pue' na'. me fui a trabajar.


IV.

i go to werk at five. i come back at two.
i no remembeh who call me, i think i'was ju seester.
my fren' come wi' me.
he giveh cigar to e' ri' body. y bueno, i donno. i go home and wait for ju mother.


V.

day afte'? i go home, i go to werk.
i ha' to makeh money. ju know.
i remembeh joo mother tell me ju okay, so i no worry too much.
i no believe i have anothe' baby. i no believe how moch ju look like joo brothe' gusti.
i no believe ju so leetle guy, and now ju so big guy.
i put ju in my pocket.


VI.

ju writeh poem how? ¿en mi voz?
pue'. oiga esto que te voy a decir ahora.
los poetas mueren joven, okay? bú'cate algo esteady, que nunca sabes que va pasar.
ay que buscar poetas cubanos, que son de los mejores.
¿sabes que martí fue poeta?
ay, mi'jo. ay un millón de poemas que tengo aqui, memoriza'o.
así se aprenda los poemas, ¿sabes?
ay mi'jo. un millón.



Burial Instructions

If they left it up to me, maybe I'd freeze him,
pickle him in a six-foot jar, label it with instructions,
a warning for my kids: This is

what happens when you live your life timidly.
You die of sleep apnea, untreated, your wife
mourns you from the road and your kids—

well. If you have any, they will spend hours
staring at television, their brains hooked into
some manner of electronics designed for

maximum interaction with two dimensions.
Air was a foreign language. His den, dark,
impenetrable. No one understood his poetry,

least of all me. I guess he fancied me his
confidant, the one woman who would stand
steadfast outside his room, wait for his kindness

to trickle from his cracked door. Lord knows
I tried. Lord knows these people accuse me,
even now, of not waiting up with him, the wife

they needed for him. Even now, there are eyes
trained on my hands as I close the gaping jaw,
as if I'd never done this before, like I signed away

all rights to his body with the divorce papers.
They are discussing the options: the proper
Christian thing to do, the monument, prices.

Proper is what we negotiate between ourselves
and our mothers. Don't ask me to bury him,
I've been explaining long enough.

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More Acentos photos:

Maria Nieves at the Acentos 3rd Anniversary show, March 2006.
Photo courtesy of Peter Dressel


Poets and Friends of the louderARTS Project and Acentos gather in the Bronx for a reading by Martín Espada, October 2005

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More News on Book of Mornings

Raul Niño: Reading and Booksigning
Thur. July 26, 2007@ 7 p.m.

Tianguis

2003 S. Damen
Chicago, IL 60608
Located across the
CTA Pink Line, Damen stop.

ph: 312.492.8350



Lisa Alvarado