Francisco Alarcón and the moderators of the Facebook group, Poets Responding to SB 1070, submit the work of five poets (and a translator) for August's fourth Tuesday, including Carlos Baron, Betty Sánchez, Jose Hernandez Díaz, Ralph Haskins, Ramón Piñero. Jim Michael.
"Up and Down / Altibajos" por Carlos Barón
"Emancipación / Emancipation" by Betty Sánchez (English translation by Jim Michael)
"Panadería Revolución (I Am Floating Gardens)" by Jose Hernandez Díaz
"Household Shrine" by Ralph Haskins
"Cifras / Ciphers" by Ramón Piñero
Up and Down / Altibajos
By Carlos Barón
Este poema fué escrito después de contemplar por mi ventana una escena urbana demasiado típica: un muchacho latino, cerca de 20 años, que luchaba un “high” demasiado “high.” Calles Precita y Mission, San Francisco, California, 1990. It was first born in English and then I translated it to Spanish. Carlos Barón, SF,CA. 1990
UP AND DOWN
Up there
assaulting the limpid blue
of the August day
a jet crosses
leaving parallel tracks
of white smoke
that hang
lazily
above us
undisturbed
by the gentle
summer breeze.
Juan "Johny" Martínez
First Lieutenant
U. S. Air Force
breaks the sound barrier
once again
bonding
with his war machine
being all that he can be
in the name
of democracy
and all that is civilized
and profitable.
Down here
anchored to the grey heat
of the urban pavement
Jesús "Chuy" García
foot soldier of some gang
or another
breaks into convulsions
in the arms of his "ruca"
turning his head
left to right
and vice versa
trying to deal
with the demons
conjured
by the dust
of some fallen angel.
"Wake up, Chuy!
God damn it!"
pleads his other
angel baby
alternatively
kissing and slapping
her young lover's face.
Surrounded
by her own set
of monsters
she vainly hopes
that no one has noticed
the all-too-evident...
"Wake up Chuy, honey!
Get up, cabrón!...
The cops will be here any minute!"
But Chuy does not answer.
He cannot hear
with all that noise
erupting
in his brain
perplexed
by the slaps
on his face
unable to grasp
why is it so cold
why is it raining
when the sky's
so fucking blue, vato?
"Oh, raindrops,
so many raindrops
it feels like raindrops
falling from her eye-ies
falling from her eyes."
Up there
Lieutenant Martínez
rapes the canvas
of the sky one last time.
"Perfect weather!" he mutters
as he prepares
to descend upon the
cheeseburger, everything on it
just evoked
by his hunger.
He will certainly miss
that cheeseburger
when he is advising
proxy armies
in the jungles
of somewhere
but he understands:
we all have to make
some sacrifices.
Down here
"Chuy" makes
his own contributions.
On the altar
of the streets
his candles burn
at all ends.
ALTIBAJOS
Por Carlos Barón
En lo alto
asaltando
el límpido azul
del cielo veraniego
cruza un "jet"
dejando huellas paralelas
de humo blanco
que cuelgan
lánguidas
encima nuestro
sin brisa que perturbe
su diseño.
Juan "Johny" Martínez
Teniente
de la Fuerza Aérea Norteamericana
rompe
una vez más
la barrera del sonido
familiarizándose
con su máquina guerrera
para llegar al máximo
de su potencial
en nombre
de la democracia
capitalista
y de todo lo civilizado
y ganancioso
Acá abajo
anclado al gris calor
del pavimento urbano
Jesús "Chuy" García
soldado razo
de ésta
o esa efímera pandilla
se convulsiona
en los brazos de su "ruca"
y su cabeza vá
de izquierda a derecha
o viceversa
tratando de bregar
con los demonios evocados
por el polvo
de algún ángel caído.
"¡Despierta Chuy!
God Damn it!"
le ruega
su otra angelita
combinando
besos y palmadas
sobre la joven cara
de su amigo
rodeada
por sus propios demonios
deseando
vanamente
que nadie se dé cuenta
de lo más que obvio...
"¡Despierta Chuy, mi amor!
Get up, cabrón!..
¡Que ya vienen los cops!"
Pero Chuy no contesta
Chuy no puede oír
con todo ese ruido
reventando en su cerebro
perplejo
por los palmotazos
que visitan su cara
sin entender
¿por qué tengo frío?
¿por qué está lloviendo?
¿si el cielo está tan
hiejueputamente azul, cabrón?
"Oh, raindrops,
so many raindrops
it feels like raindrops
falling from her eye-ies
falling from her eyes."
En lo alto
el Teniente Martínez
viola el lienzo
del cielo
una última vez.
"¡Lindo día!"
masculla
preparándose
para aterrizar
sobre la hamburguesa
doble y con papas fritas
que su hambre
visualiza.
De seguro extrañará
esa hamburguesa
cuando esté entrenando
ejércitos pro-Yanquis
en las selvas
de donde sea que lo llamen
pero el entiende:
todos tenemos algo
que sacrificar.
Acá abajo
"Chuy" hace
su propia contribución:
en el altar de la calle
su vela arde, por arriba
y por abajo.
************
San Francisco, California, 1990
EMANCIPACIÓN
por Betty Sánchez
Nací y crecí
en un círculo patriarcal
las mujeres de mi clan
como mi madre y mi abuela
carecían de opinión
y por extensión
sus deseos e intereses
siempre fueron ignorados
no existían
sólo servían
complacían
perecían
al nacer yo
era la expectación
que me amoldara
al mismo patrón
de sumisión
de opresión
y total subyugación
mi padre me nombró Norma
que por definición
es una regla general
de conducta
sin siquiera imaginar
que su chiquilla
de trenzas apretadas
resistiría la autoridad tirana
y sería la antétesis
de obedecer lo establecido
me divertía con canicas
baleros y trompos
para desafiar a
los que recalcaban
que eso era un
juego exclusivo
de niños
para contrarrestar
mis acciones viriles
me vestían con encajes
y olanes
lo que sólo aumentaba
mi deseo de escapar
de aquel mundo
intolerante y déspota
siendo adolescente
protesté contra todo
fui rebelde y defensora
de innumerables causas
pero nada cambió
hoy en mi edad adulta
me burlo del machismo
con la misma intensidad
que me opongo
al feminismo
pues ambas actitudes
son separatistas
ni una ni otra
promueven la igualdad
ambas buscan
el dominio
la superioridad
el control
el uno es consecuencia
del otro
son tan sólo
fenómenos sociales
movimientos culturales
trucos intelectuales
que existirán
mientras lo permitamos
si yo sí lo que soy
y lo que valgo
nadie me oprimirá
porque opondré resistencia
nadie me someterá
a un yugo de sumisión
(Mis ex maridos
son testigos de que
a mi nadie me manda)
si establezco
y reclamo mi lugar
en mi hogar en la sociedad
en el planeta
nadie osará reprimirme
ni intentará vencerme
soy responsable de mí misma
soy lo que tenga que ser
para cumplir mis necesidades y ambiciones
soy mexicana de nación
xicana por adopción
soy Betty mujer madre
hija amiga maestra
soy Betty Kahlo
soy Betty Guevara
soy Betty Menchú
soy Betty Chávez
soy Betty Huerta
soy Betty Neruda
soy valiente
independiente
inteligente
ardiente
decido mi propio destino
por lo tanto
hago valer mis derechos
Y exijo el respeto
que merezco
no por pertenecer
a una supuesta
categoría protegida
como los son mi género
mi orientación sexual
mi edad y origen
si no por mi acciones
por mis méritos
por mis esfuerzos
por ser simplemente
un excepcional e inigualable
ser humano.
Punto.
Betty Sánchez/Agosto 2011
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
EMANCIPATION
Translation by Jim Michael
of the poem "Emancipación" by Betty Sánchez
I was born and raised
in a paternal circle
the women of my clan
like my mother and grandmother
were not assertive
because of this
their interests and desires
were always ignored
they did not exist
they were only there
to serve to please
to perish
when I was born
it was expected
that I would fit
into the same pattern
of submission
oppression
and total subjugation
my father called me Norma
a word that is defined
as a general rule of conduct
he hardly imagined
that his little girl
with the braided hair
would resist tyrannical authority
and would become
the antithesis of obedience
i played with marbles
“baleros” and tops
to defy those
who insisted that
these toys
were exclusively for boys
in order to counter
my tom-boy actions
they dressed me
in ruffles and lace
this just increased
my determination
to escape
from that intolerant
and despotic world
during my adolescence
i protested against everything
i was a rebel and defender
of innumerable causes
but nothing changed
today as an adult
I laugh at machismo
with the same intensity
that I oppose feminism
because both attitudes
are separatists
neither one nor the other
promotes equality
both seek the domination
superiority control
one is the result of the other.
they are only social phenomena
cultural movements
intellectual tricks
that will exist
as long as we let them
i know what I am
and what I am worth
no one will oppress me
because I will resist
no one will hitch me
to the yoke of oppression
(My ex husbands
will testify to this)
if I reclaim
my place in my home
in society
on this planet
no one will dare repress me
no one will try to conquer me
I am responsible
for my own self
I am what I have to be
to fulfill my needs
and ambitions
I am Mexican by birth
Xicana by adoption
I am Betty woman
mother daughter
friend teacher
I am Betty Kahlo
I am Betty Guevara
I am Betty Menchu
I am Betty Neruda
I am brave
intelligent
passionate
I decide my own destiny
therefore
I stand up for my rights
and I demand the respect
that I deserve
not because
I belong to a supposedly
protected category
such as my gender
my sexual orientation
my age and origin
but rather for my actions
for my accomplishments
for being an exceptional
and unique
human being.
Period.
Panadería Revolución (I Am Floating Gardens)
by Jose Hernandez Díaz
This taza de café
De olla
Caresses my tongue
And teaches
My eyes
The way of the serpent:
I am Tenochtitlán;
I know no borders.
As I take a
Jaguar bite
From the warm
Pan dulce,
I climb ancient pyramids;
I am floating gardens.
The morning sun
Has baptized
The blue barrio
With rays of nostalgia
And songs full of promise:
I seek no exit;
I embrace what is broken.
The delicate aroma
Emanating
From the
Metallic ovens
Of the panadería
Remind me of
Quetzales
And all that is rising.
Household Shrine
by Ralph Haskins
Inside the heart of the darkest part of night,
a lonely yellow glow flickers from within.
A window reveals velorio candles---
their tiny fiery tongues carrying light conversations
with a congregation of clayed clergy---
La Virgen de Guadalupe, San Martín de Porres,
El Santo Niño de Atocha, and the not-quite sainted
Don Pedrito Jaramillo. Each holds a rosary.
Old family photographs of the dead keep them company---
and before them, their favorite things:
abuelito's Waltham pocket watch, la tía's crucifix and tea---
recuerdos, or offerings more likely---the random roses---
with Jesus, hanging on the wall and bleeding over all---
an ongoing pilgrimage procession going nowhere,
marking penance on the heavy shoulders of a small armoire
weary with the weight of a family’s faith.
Cifras
por Ramón Piñero
hoy era uno
ayer eran cien
mañana quien
sabe, miles
niños olvidados
buscando por
los zaguanes
alimentos
comidas
en unos
casos
encontrando
la pega
para olvidar
su hambre
y su
dolor
hoy era uno
ayer cien
cifras sin
nombres
caras con
cachetes
hundidos
ojos oscuros
la miseria
en sus miradas
hoy era uno
ayer doscientos
mañana serán
miles,
y cuantos mas
solo cifras
en una
matemática
sin nombre
hoy era una
ayer eran cien
mañana no
se sabe
no hay
alarma ambarina
por una niñez
perdida
por una
niñez
robada
una niñez
secuestrada
hoy era una
hoy era uno
ayer fueron
muchos; ¿y
mañana
cuantos son?
ayer en Oakland
hoy en Brooklyn
en
Managua y
Palestina
en
San Francisco
y Barranquilla
en Londres y
El Cairo
en Gaza y
El Sudan
en
San Juan y
en La Perla
en la
catorce
y en la
ciento diez
hoy era uno
ayer fueron
cien;
mañana
serán
demasiado
no hay
alarma
ambarina
para una
niñez robada
una niñez
secuestrada
por una niñez
que no tuvo
chance de
vivir
son Blancos
Morenos
son Asiáticos
e indígenas
latinos
y demás.
la de ayer
tenia cinco
años
el de ayer
nos se
sabe
los de mañana
no han nacido
pero también
se perderán
no hay
alarmas
ambarinas
para las
almas ya
perdidas
por una
niñez
que ya
no existe.
hoy era una;
mañana quien
sabe.
© Ramón Piñero 8/12/11
Ciphers
by Ramón Piñero
today there
was one
yesterday
hundreds
tomorrow
who knows;
thousands
forgotten
children
heading
down
dead end
alleyways
diving in
dumpsters
finding
empty bags
of glue
to lose
their hunger
and their
pain
today there
was one
yesterday
hundreds
ciphers
with
sunken
cheeks
dead eyes
staring
straight
ahead
today there
was one
yesterday
two hundred
tomorrow
thousands
just another
cipher
in an unnamed
equation
where the sum
value is
zero
today there
was one
yesterday
hundreds
there is no
Amber Alert
for a lost
childhood
a stolen
childhood
a childhood
held for
ransom
to the
highest
bidder
today there
was one girl
today a boy
yesterday
there were
too many
and tomorrow
what?
yesterday in
Oakland
today in
Brooklyn
in Managua
Palestine
in
San Francisco
and
Barranquilla
in London
and Cairo
Gaza
and the
Sudan
in San Juan
and La Perla
on 14th street
and one hundred
and tenth
Today there
was one
yesterday were
hundreds
tomorrow
there will
be too
many
There is no
Amber Alert
for stolen
youth
with the
deck stacked
against
the
they are
White
Brown
Asians
Latinos
and
Native
Americans
and more
She was
only five
yesterday
we don’t
know how
old he was
tomorrows
children are
yet unborn
yet the
same
awaits them
There are no
Amber Alerts
for souls
already lost
for a
childhood
that won’t
exist
© Ramón Piñero 8/12/2011
BIOS
"Up and Down / Altibajos" por Carlos Baron
"Emancipación / Emancipation" by Betty Sánchez (English translation by Jim Michael)
"Panadería Revolución (I Am Floating Gardens)" by Jose Hernandez Díaz
"Household Shrine" by Ralph Haskins
"Cifras / Ciphers" by Ramón Piñero
Carlos Barón
Carlos Barón was born in Chile in 1945. In 1966, he came to the USA with a Track and Field Scholarship, landing a a student on U.C. Berkeley, where he received his B.A. in Sociology and went to Graduate School in Theatre Arts. In 1972, he returned to his native Chile, but had to leave that country following the September 11, 1973 military coup.
Back in the SF Bay Area, Barón co-founded La Peña Cultural Center (Berkeley, 1976), who still is going strong. He also founded the Teatro Latino (first of Oakland and then of San Francisco), which lasted from 1977 to 1984 and produced many original, bilingual scripts, such as "Pasión y Prisión de Lolita Lebrón", "Splendor and Death of Joaquín Murieta", "Liz Estrada". among others.
In 1978, he joined the La Raza Studies Department,at San Francisco State University, (SFSU) where he taught for 10 years, a variety of courses, including Teatro Workshop, Creative Writing, Values and Culture, Oral Traditions, La Raza Music and La Raza Literature. In 1988, he joined the Department of Theatre Arts at SFSU, with a tenure track appointment. In 2000, he became a Full Professor.
Carlos Barón, a professional actor and storyteller, above all likes to act, but he is busy teaching, writing theatre and educational film scripts, directing theatre productions.
For over 20 years he has taught a class, which he created, called Advanced Multicultural Theatre Workshop and he also created another theatre group, Rainbow Theatre, based at SFSU. For that group, he wrote "Poeta Pan", a multidisciplinary production about the life and poetry of the poet Pablo Neruda, which twice toured Chile (2005 and 2007), to rave reviews.
He is the father of three daughters (Savia, Brisa and Dulce Paz) and one son, Roque. Grandfather to Jiancarlo (4) and Luna, (about to turn 1).
Poetry has invaded all he does, be it theatre or poetry per se, and although some of his poems have been published in various countries, Carlos keeps his work mostly under wraps. But he promises that he will begin sharing and writing more.
Mi nombre es Betty Sánchez, nací en Tepic Nayarit, México, emigré a este país en mi adolescencia. Soy parte del grupo Escritores del Nuevo Sol desde Marzo del 2003. Bajo la dirección de Phil Goldvarg que dirigió un ejercicio de escritura, escribí mi primer poema formal titulado “Soledad” que fue añadido a la antología “Voces del Nuevo Sol/Cantos y Cuentos” publicado en el 2004. Recientemente participéé en Noches de Voces Xicanas y en el Primer Concurso de Poesía Latinoamericana en Español organizado por Colectivo Verso Activo; fui una de las finalistas y tuve la oportunidad de compartir mis poemas en el Centro Cultural de la Misión para las Artes Latinas en San Francisco. José Hernández Díaz
José Hernández Díaz is a UC Berkeley graduate with a BA in English Literature. He plans on applying to the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics’ MFA Program at Naropa, along with other creative writing schools. Jose’s favorite poets are those of the Chicano Renaissance and the poets of the Beat Generation. José has been published in The Best American Nonrequired Reading Anthology 2011, La Gente Newsmagazine, Bombay Gin Literary Journal, ABCTales, Indigenous Writers and Artists Collective, and has had six poems in La Bloga, including: 'The Border Within,' 'In My Barrio (An Improvised Tune),' 'I Haver Never Left,' 'We Call It Work,' and 'An Ode to Los Jornaleros.' Jose has had poetry readings in Los Angeles, San Francisco and at The Museum of Latin American Art (MOLAA) in Long Beach, Ca.
Ralph Haskins
Ralph Haskins was born and raised in Monterrey, Mexico. His family moved to South Texas during the social turmoil of the 60’s. The new cultural challenges he experienced led him to express himself through poetry. Many of his poems touch the cultural and political issues of our times. Today, Ralph lives in McAllen, Texas where he supplements his poet’s income by moonlighting as a science teacher at a local high school.
Ramón Piñero
Ex Bay Area poet living in the buckle of the Bible Belt , aka Florida. Where good little boys and girls grow up to be republicans who vote against their own interest. Father of three and Grandfather to five of the coolest kids ever.
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