Tuesday, August 23, 2011

La Bloga Features On-Line Floricanto Today

On-Line Floricanto Penultimate Tuesday in August 2011

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.


Betty Sánchez 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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