Tuesday, September 03, 2013

Momaday Named Anaya Lecturer. September's First On-line Floricanto

Momaday Named Anaya Lecturer

The fourth annual Rudolfo and Patricia Anaya Lecture on the Literature of the Southwest comes September 26 in the Grand Ballroom of the University of New Mexico Student Union Building. The English Depto sends along this enticement:

N. Scott Momaday is one of the most distinguished writers of our time. His first novel House Made of Dawn was awarded the Pulitzer Prize in 1969, an event that brought new visibility to American Indian literature and literature of the Southwest, a landscape that has inflected his fiction, poetry, and paintings for decades. Momaday is a Stanford Ph.D.

Momaday’s writing celebrates the power of language and the richness of oral tradition in works that invoke historical memory and often exceed the boundaries of genre. He has published more than 15 volumes of fiction, poetry, and drama, including The Way to Rainy Mountain (1969), The Names (1976), The Ancient Child (1989), In the Presence of the Sun (1992), The Man Made of Words (1997), and Again the Far Morning: New and Selected Poems (2011). An accomplished painter in watercolor, he often illustrates his own texts.

N. Scott Momaday has taught at the University of Arizona, Stanford University, the University of California-Berkeley, and the University of California-Santa Barbara, and has been an invited speaker at dozens of universities and colleges across the globe.

The UNM English Department established the annual lecture series on the literature of the Southwest in 2010 through a gift from the renowned fiction writer Rudolfo Anaya and his late wife Patricia Anaya.

The English Department cherishes the fact that Emeritus Professor Rudy Anaya was on our faculty for so many years. A founder of our distinguished Creative Writing Program, he still inspires us with his joyous approach to life, sense of humor, and eloquent articulation of culture and the beauties of the Southwest, says Professor Gail Houston.

The annual Rudolfo and Patricia Anaya Lecture on the Literature of the Southwest features foundational figures such as Acoma Pueblo poet Simon Ortiz (2010), Las Cruces writer and playwright Denise Chávez (2011), and Taos writer John Nichols (2012).

UNM Co-sponsors for the event include the Center for Southwest Research, the Center for the Southwest, the Department of English Language and Literature, the Department of History, the Honors College, and the Institute for American Indian Research (IFAIR).

For further information, contact the Anaya Lecture Committee at anayalecture@unm.edu or the UNM English Department at (505) 277-6347.

First On-line Floricanto in 9th Month
Iris De Anda, Ramon Piñero, Ama Luna, Irma Guadarrama, Bulfrano Mendoza

Odilia Galván Rodriguéz and her co-moderators of the Facebook group, Poets Responding to SB 1070 Poetry of Resistance, launch the final quarter of 2013 with a powerful collection of poems.

"Chelsea I See" by Iris De Anda
"It's All Good" by Ramon Piñero
"Mis enchiladas" por Ama Luna
"No Picnic" By Irma Guadarrama
"blood like water" by Bulfrano Mendoza

Chelsea I See
Iris De Anda

from sea to shining sea
stripped of liberty
I see her standing there
spirit bursting in air
her stars and stripes
strangle her voice pipes
how free is she?
or you or I to be
to question authority
this is not a conspiracy
she pledges allegiance
to higher truths
holds accountability
denounces unjust moves
she is us searching
beyond the news
we open our eye
control of the masses
she takes off her glasses
to see more clearly
whether man or womyn
Manning is human
waking up from sleep
struggles to stand
so we take her hand
time will be on our side
eventually all darkness
comes to light
complete the circle
because now it is her
but it could be us
Chelsea swims in circles
of constant change
despite rumors and blame
she dives deep ocean blue
the skies will reflect
this hologram too
an elaborate program
set in place long ago
yet now we know
the fall will be hard
they have no more cards
the deck is exposed
light decomposes filth
artificial reality
can no longer hold us
we break free
every moment
leaving thought dust
rethink our separation
this builds trust
we put a hole in the matrix
going back to the basics
she represents choice
let us make some noise
whether her or you or I
they can no longer scare
those whose spirits burst free
from sea to shining sea

It's All Good
Ramon Piñero

It’s all good
except when
it’s not

I hear the same
phrase from
the newly minted
upper classes

It’s all good
except when
it’s not.

When eight year old
babies shoot
ninety year old
women cause
they can

It’s all good
except when
it’s not.

The newly
flaunt their
rocks on
their hands
golden chains
draped down
in between
the cleavage
barely dressed
in designer
enough to
feed a small
in Appalachia

It’s all good
except when
it’s not.

in and out
of rehab
making their
babies new
income streams
auctioning pictures
of their

It’s all good
is what I
hear from
the myopic
the privilged
upper classes

except when
it’s not

Except when
children are
like so many
head to toe
to toe to
vacant eyes
and all the
holy men
prattle on
a prosperity
or the
hidden Imam
when rebes
rock back
and forth
and forth
and back
and their
prayer beads
hung on their
or dangle
from their

It’s all good
except when
it’s not

except when
the new
hoist their
to toast
and the
false prophets
preach a
song of
a pocketful
of rye
four and
little boys
were never
seen again

It’s all good
except when
it’s not

It is all good
it’s not

Ama Luna

Mi abuela, MamaTila
detrás de la casa
sembrada una mata
de chiles

Cuando comíamos
en la mesa no debía faltar
una ramita de chiles

Con ellos la comida
se hacía más real

Yo era una niña
y frecuentemente
me solía enchilar

“Toma agua niña”
mi abuela decía
sin cesar

y aprendí
a valorar
mis chiltepes

ahora me enchilo con gusto
me enchilo con ganas
me enchilo con deseo
me enchilo con sabor

con calor
de amor
de pasión
de mujer

No Picnic
Irma Guadarrama

Any other river like this one
would invite the locals
for a fun-filled picnic.
Instead, the Rio looks Bravo and
desolate against the trappings of
steel posts, wired fencing, and
concrete military mesh.

Pedestrians on the Mexican side of the
bridge pour out into an open plaza,
darting cars, waiting for city buses.
Folk women utterly
exhausted as they console their
young, grab on to bundles
of bulging plastic shopping sacks,
bearing names of gringo
stores from the other side of the rio.

When the border wall is erected
we won’t be able to see these
retail gobblers but, who cares.
As long as the money flows;
globalism seeps through
impenetrable walls;
A preponderant fact for
the countless that dare to
cross into the land of promise,
the purgatory of uncertainty;

We hear stories that make your head spin
like the one of how pets
are treated with dignity
unlike our brothers; and
the earnings, no matter how long,
how hard the work, barely enough to
put bread on the table.

At the Mexican side, a
welcome-home flag awaits
those who gambled wrong,
big enough for the world to notice
how it flies
more boldly, bigger, and proudly than
the American flag behind them.

blood like water
Bulfrano Mendoza

i see blood like water
it no longer scares me.
war is all around me
and death is always near.
i have no toys to play with
and most of my friends are dead.
bombs explode where we used to play
and i wonder if they do target children?
drones follow our fathers
and whole buildings fall
just to kill one man..
entire families lived in those buildings,
and are counted among the dead.
while you sleep safe in your bed
and your children are near
i see blood like water
and death is always near.

dedicated to the children of war....

No comments: