and slowly read, and dream

On-line Floricanto For St. Valentine

Selected by the Moderators of the Facebook community Poets Responding.

Nit pick by Lia Eliades
What he knows and doesn’t by Odilia Galván Rodríguez
ESPERANDO ABRIL por Elizabeth Cazessús
Niño cabellos de fuego por Brian Schwarzschild
You Became the Seasons When You Left by Sonia Gutiérrez
Te convertiste en las estaciones cuando te fuiste por Sonia Gutiérrez
Sin Razón de Amar por Zheyla Henriksen
[a prayer to the seven directions of Love] by Jenuine Blu
love song to those who died: the AIDS years 37 years later by Sharon Elliott
Que Nunca por Edward Vidaurre
DEEP WATERS by Lara Gularte
I Know of No Other Way... by Victor Avila
Canción nacida del viento by Elle Wonders
Oda de Odiseo a la Sirena, por Daniel García Ordaz
Ode Of Odysseus To The Siren, (a translation by Daniel García Ordaz)
Son plácidos los versos por Gabriel González Núñez
En San Francisco por enriKetta luissi
The Son of an Elotero by Andrea Mauk
The Time Traveler by Eduardo Leon Guizar
this body by Jo Reyes-Boitel
Braille by Briana Muñoz


Nit pick
by Lia Eliades

As I unpick stitches
You hang laundry
And just like that
Twenty years have gone by
It’s the small things
Your transistor radio
all static and crackle
Punting on ponies
That come and go
The good curries you cook
The way you use twigs instead of q-tips
How you tend your little garden
And piss on the passion fruit vine
‘Not on my herbs,’ I plead
As I pick stitches
I want to tell him
how to hang the towels
Everyone knows
how to hang the towels
Except him
But I say nothing
And I pick stitches in the sun
And think about how he thinks
I think
That whatever he does is wrong
Nit picker
That is not me
But the towels will never dry like that
But I say nothing
It’s the small things
That can break twenty years
Or stitch them tightly together
‘Do you want me to make curry?’ he says
I lift my eyes and smile in the sun


What he knows
and doesn’t
by Odilia Galván Rodríguez

He knows
she’s lived
a lot of places
but doesn’t
know why

thinks he knows her
but understands
you can
never know
a person
is a world

complex
as the four seasons
she’s subject to change
her ways and means
not predictable

she’s more storm
ones that don’t warn
come up fast
carrying electricity

their coppery redolence
mixed
with the smell
of earth
craving
water

that is what
he does
says
he thinks of her

but comes across
the universe
a whirlwind
of deep want

almost hunger
for her
the way she
smiles

how it flowers
on her
usually serious
face

the cadence
of her voice
clear and sure
the sharpness
of her native wit

he misses
how
all those places
she’s been
live in her
not only
in her mind



ESPERANDO ABRIL
por Elizabeth Cazessús

Amanezco y la diáfana luz entra por la ventana
La habitación tiene su propio toque de silencio
Respiramos juntos y a la distancia extasiados de besos
se conjuga el tiempo del cuerpo en pasado y presente.
No nos rendimos en esta comunión de imágenes
Volvemos, sin dar marcha atrás y con esa fuerza
destilamos palabras que le dan sentido al amanecer
Un alumbramiento contiene entero el mapa de la piel.



Niño cabellos de fuego
por Brian Schwarzschild

I

Entonces niño cabellos de fuego ¿qué mirada tienes tú?

¿Qué sueñan los niños de fuego como tú?

Ah pues te diré, los niños de fuego,

vivos y suaves / moldeados en jaspe /

los que llegan con la primavera /

antes que el hierro y las armas blandan

una vez y sólo una /

con una corona de flores y laurel /

sueñan




You Became the Seasons When You Left
by Sonia Gutiérrez

You became the comforting chilly wind of fall,

snugging my skin but nowhere to be found

And I would catch you like a raincoat in December—

ill-prepared thirty days out of the month

(One must learn to keep an umbrella nearby)

Spring flowers—such morbid beauty—reminding me
your visit would be temporary like morning glory petals shut tight each fading night

You, plentiful like the sun’s scorching summer heat but missing most of the day

Perhaps, next year I will catch you in an iced cold glass of tea on a Havana beach


Te convertiste en las estaciones cuando te fuiste
por Sonia Gutiérrez

Te convertiste en el viento frío consolador del otoño,

acurrucándome la piel, pero sin encontrarte en ningún lugar

Y te atrapaba como una gabardina en diciembre— mal preparada treinta días del mes

(Uno debe aprender a traer un paraguas a la mano)

Las flores de la primavera—belleza tan mórbida—

recordándome que tu visita sería temporal como los pétalos de la gloria de la mañana cerrada herméticamente cada noche que desvanecía

Tú, abundante como el calor abrasador del sol de verano, pero desaparecido la mayor parte del día

Tal vez, en el año por venir, te atraparé

en un vaso de té helado en una playa de la Havana



Sin Razón de Amar
por Zheyla Henriksen

CANTO I

Desde la grande inmensidad
De nuestro espíritu
Me duele tu amor

Es limón exprimido
Jugo que se impregna
En la garganta

Al momento que estoy contigo
Y se queda el recuerdo
En los sentidos

Es ese gusto amargo querendón

Ese amor es hostia inalcanzable
Del niño que aún no ha pecado
Y que quiere comulgar
Sin haberse confesado

Mi encuentro contigo
Enciende la llama amortiguada
Que al verse nuestras almas
Comienza como un fénix
A crecer de las cenizas

Es pecado no consumado
Es dolor y canción

CANTO II

Acércate ya al cáliz
Al elixir de los dioses
Porque sé que inexorablemente
Eres mío sin tú saberlo

Reconócete en mí
Yo sé que lo haces
Pero el miedo te impide
Explorar lo ajeno

CANTO III

Quiéreme sin temor
Yo guardaré el recuerdo
Que en mis noches solitarias
Me cantaré en el sueño

Porque

Tu amor es como el rocío
Silencioso de la mañana
Me refresca cuando cae
Y al esfumarse quedo sedienta

CANTO IV

Bendito este amor
Que me hace reconocer
Que esta alma se enreda
En penurias terrenales

Que me hace olvidar
Que hay un Dios

Es la prueba de fuego
Donde se mata el alma
Es el cuerpo reivindicándose

Ese amor está allí
Y yo soy el sediento
Que no puede mojarse
Los labios de tu agua

Es bendición y pecado
Es alma y cuerpo
Es crucifixión y redención



[a prayer to the seven directions of Love]
by Jenuine Blu

love song to those who died: the AIDS years 37 years later
by Sharon Elliott

there must be a great party
wherever it is you have gone
to put your feet up
cemetery disco
for a dance undone

we all came of age
in reckless times
that made safety
a guarantee
wasted on ignorance
sitting ducks
in the shooting gallery of
a forsaken arcade

we never saw your faces
missing in action
caught unaware
what was being sold distorted
no rainbow promises

we passed you by
lickety split
not stopping
to count the bodies
erased the blackboard
chalk dust
blown by a cruel wind

I forgot to revisit those days
their aching losses
remain
unknown emptiness
that won’t be filled

anything you may have said or done
irretrievable
departed for a distant land
of sand dunes
rolling breakers
and slack tides

I miss you



Que Nunca
por Edward Vidaurre

Que nunca se cansen tus ojos de los míos. Ni tus labios de los míos. Ni tu piel sobre mi piel en otoño. Ni el nido de el cenzontle en tu árbol. Nunca pierdas el amor por el diseño de tu cara cuando seas vencida por el sueño. Ni por el ruido de mi garganta cuando duermo. Ni por la tortuga que no se apura. Nunca dejes que la sed te cause ansiedad. Ni que el calor de junio te borre la sonrisa. Nunca dejes caer mis palabras de amor al olvido. Ni mis besos al la oscuridad del mar inmenso. Ni dejes que las impresiones de mis dedos sobre tus caderas después de hacer el amor se desaparescan. Nunca dejes que las canas de tu pelo escondan el color rosa de tus mejillas cuando tengas pena. Que nunca te de pena. Nunca sufras por el amor. Ni por mi adios. Nunca dudes de mi amor en el libro de poemas que escribiré con la saliva de tu último beso.



DEEP WATERS
by Lara Gularte

We stare at the great sea,
the moon, gold dust
on slate-black rippling waves.
For love vows
in a rite by water
we enter the surf.

Like two cosmic fish
we swim in uncharted depths,
taste the wild flavor of the sea,
and in a wet embrace
make silent promises.
O mariner man of mine,

together you and I
reach ocean bottom, and
discover oysters without pearls.
Barren of treasure
from this dead sea,

our breath used,
our lungs to bursting,
we pour ourselves back on shore,
our skin turning to scales.
Fish breath.

First published in Days Between Dancing by “The Poet’s Corner Press.”

I Know of No Other Way...
by Victor Avila

I know of no other way to love you
but with words and kisses
and I want to know of no other way.

For in those moments of solitude and silence
when despair and melancholy shadows
come to overwhelm me
I think of you.

The beauty of your breasts delight me
and my lonely hands seek you in the ravenous moonlight.
My desire for you cannot be quenched
or the infinity of its fire extinguished.
Your thighs are an amorous map
that I want to return to.
They are a harbor of my remembrances.

No, I know of no other way to love you.

And yes, I have loved others
but all of them are passengers on somber trains
traveling through the fog of loss and oblivion.
I do not see them.

In this part of our story
we become the glad echoes of each others eyes.
In this part of our story
you are asleep beside me but it is I who feel
that I am in the midst
of the most iridescent of dreams.

I know of no other way to love you.
And oh, how I love you-
for you are an anchor of phosphorus
that illuminates the darker places of my soul.
And your kisses of jade and amethyst
are what I remember when I leave you.

Sometimes in your presence,
when you are not looking, I temble
fearing that I love you too much.
And yes, fearing that the day might come
when I will lose you.

But for now,
my fever in its restlessness
knows tranquility.
I am consoled that you are in my arms
and in the shelter of my embrace, both quiet and still.

For I know of no other way to love you
but with words and kisses.

I know of no other way.



Canción nacida del viento
by Elle Wonders

Camíname a través de un campo de hierba alta
y traeremos de vuelta los días que perdimos.

Cántame cuando las palomas estén arrullando
y el sonido flotará a través de mis pensamientos.

Llévame a través de un crepúsculo de verano
y te mostraré las estrellas que brillan.

Recuérdame cómo bailan nuestros rayos de luna
e intentaremos nuevamente. Nos iremos esta noche.

Si me muestran el camino hacia el delta del río,
podemos detenernos en algún lugar del camino.

El viento llevará nuestras canciones de búsqueda
y marcaremos el lugar en nuestro mapa.



“Oda de Odiseo a la Sirena” 
 por Daniel García Ordaz

¿Dónde estás?
Ayer te busqué,
te hallé,
te perdí.
Hoy te buscaré otra vez.
Anoche te busque en mis brazos,
tan fuera de alcance como
la bicicleta de mi niñez—
hace mucho abandonada, jamás olvidada.
Te busqué en el eterno rugir
de tus caricias marinas
sobre las rocas
de mis memorias.
Remo y remo sin cesar
hasta que el latir en mi pecho
cae triste y silencioso,
débil sobre tu ancho mar.
Anoche escuché tu canto
en los vientos del verdor,
en los aires rumorosos sobre el abismo azul
suspiros que iluminaron mi paladar
con sabor a tí.
Extraño los murmullos
que dejaste como un eco dormilón
en el hueco de mi corazón.


Me dejaste como navegante sin estrella,
vagando hacia el horizonte gris,
extraviado, aislado, abandonado.
Ayer te busqué,
te hallé,
te perdí
Hoy te buscaré otra vez
aunque sigas enviando
tus olas de besos a dioses lejanos
chocando saludos
como holas de adiós.

Ode Of Odysseus To The Siren
(a translation by Daniel García Ordaz)

Where are you?
Yesterday I sought you,
I found you
I lost you.
Today I shall seek you again.
Last night I sought you in my arms
as far from my reach as
the bicycle of my childhood—
long ago abandoned, never forgotten.
I looked for you in the eternal roar
of your marine caresses
over the rocks
of my memories.
I row and row incessantly
Until the beating in my chest
Falls sad and silent,
Debilitated over your wide sea.
Last night I heard your song
in the winds of the green,
in the gossiping airs over the blue abyss
sighs that illuminated my palate
with flavor of you.
I miss the murmurs
that you left like a sleepy echo
in the hollow of my heart.
You left me as a starless navigator,
wandering toward the gray horizon,
lost, isolated, abandoned.
Yesterday I searched for you,
I found you,
I lost you
Today I shall look for you again
even as you keep sending
waves of kisses to distant gods,
greetings crashing
like waves of hello/goodbye.



Love
By José Héctor Cadena

Éramos lobos devorándonos con sed de amor

Y aun así, sin saber amar

split between wanting to

exist in your afterthoughts as you

act out the movements that might remind you

of my blindness and your blindness of the past

no longer a mixture of

when weekends seemed longer

And people talk up weaving that we became

Oil-n-water, a treasure of unresolved potential-unknown

Love,



Son plácidos los versos
por Gabriel González Núñez

Esta noche son plácidos los versos que me vienen, porque a mi lado te tengo.
Y creo escuchar, en la estrechez de la cama que compartimos,
nuestros corazones palpitar al unísono.
Y así escucho a mi alma pronunciar tu nombre.
Y en mi alma resuena el timbre de tu sentir, el murmullo de tu alegría
De tu alegría que es vida en el valle del letargo.



En San Francisco
por enriKetta luissi

en esta noche de luna partida en dos
el círculo busca su simetría
su corazón completo

como yo te busco en esta ciudad de puentes heridos
en esta noche de luna partida en dos
ando los pasos de los muertos

¿cómo decirte que me han caído de golpe los años y
no me queda mas que este cosquilleo incómodo
por las mañanas?

en esta noche de luna partida en dos
el alma calcetines en la secadora



The Son of an Elotero
by Andrea Mauk

After all these years,
and much to my surprise,
you tell me you're
the son of an elotero.
Childhood memories dance in your eyes,
of the home you left behind.
Mom sweating over the grill,
smell of sweet-fired kernels
adrift on fall breezes,
dad packing his cart
with crema y mayonesa,
chile y queso. Never butter.

You speak of your mom's family,
indigenous features, Roman noses.
Purépecha
who won't back down.
Strong hands made for crafting metal.
Soft heart that hears music
in the flourish of hummingbird wings.
History held in the chisel of your cheek bones,
but as truth turns to legend,
some parts are imagined,
links lost to time and distance.

En el Yucatán, you say
the food is more Caribbean,
like mine,
but I say it's also ancient, Mayan,
Dutch, Lebanese, Unique.
Like habanero and sour orange,
things are always more mixed
than we'd like to admit, and
we always agree
to disagree.

In your state,
your father's relatives
shave kernels from cobs,
tender ears,
preserving husks,
as green as their eyes.
Beguiling rosy complexions
don't detract from
uchepa making skills.
Your cousins serve as proof
that your dad's lineage is a mystery.

The pig is prized, his lard lauded.
Your dad and his brothers have
a well-kept methodology
of fire and frying pan.
You explain how the chiles,
guajillos, chilacas and chiltepiquín,
fresh roasted, carefully ground
create depth of flavor.
Your carnitas and my pernil,
my habichuelas and your frijoles
are best shared with fresh tortillas
and homemade salsa.

He went away in a flight of fancy,
your elotero, viajero, distante,
back to the mountains of his youth,
left you to be the man of the family he created.
No thought that you would want one of your own.
Squandered his candy money on dreams.
Returned infrequently,
not noticing how you all had grown..

When I first met you,
you told of his distance,
your anger palpable,
mixed with distrust,
a cat-like skiddishness,
your sadness...
unspoken.

After all these years,
you have begun taking trips
to those green mountains of childhood,
the strumming of guitars,
your abuelos far-off voices
calling you home.
Forging deep connections,
uncovering a patchwork of identity
straddled between cultures,
woven with yarns
of here and there.

In the graying of your temples,
I feel calmness.
In the strength of your hands,
I feel warmth.
In the light of your eyes,
I see strains of love
rekindling with the idea
of your elotero man.

I worry that you, too, will become
a viajero, extranjero,
like your dad,
and I know that if and when you do,
I will still love you
and forever long
for the way
we always agree
to disagree.



The Time Traveler
by Eduardo Leon Guizar

It is evident that of the day, or of the night, light bends in your grace

Where worlds which brim fantastically on eyes pure as glass

Take, send away anchors of reality for this space

This distance transcends the concept of a soul’s place

It was never my immortal self, never rested inside nor near me

But found me in your unmatched palace of decadence and lace

Thatched in weaves of silk and strings of lip’s embrace

In waves stretching out upon the shore of a secret sea

And this portal I take, from the desert into the oasis

Of your unwavering beauty, removes the very abstract

that is time


this body
by Jo Reyes-Boitel

I carry my own story within me.

Bound.
Bound.

Beautiful stones
embedded under the muscles of my back.

A spine nestled within
that supports all of me

but asks that I hold my inheritance,
good or bad.

This body
made to take and take
what others would have me hold.

There are spider veins falling across my breasts

My legs are in earthquakes
varicose veins, deep and full,
riding through

and my bones miss each other at the joints
clipping at the ends of bone.

My ankles pop.

And my stomach quivers
and my hands will not close

and still here,
I offer more.

[breath]
[breath]

This life this life this life – held together by pins.

I walk slow.
I am holding what all that I have been asked to hold.

[breath]

This is tiring.

[breath]

[breath]

I deny myself this body.
This body that carries me.

I am connected to this earth.
I am connected to this place.

Like the shape of a leaf’s shadow against my skin.
Like the shadow of clouds on the water below.
A birthmark. A legacy of what has survived.

I am connected to this earth.
I am connected to this place.

My feet planted here – though I was raised an exile.

I move like the ocean.
And yet this water is cradled in earth.

My people come from water.

Some generations living their whole lives swimming
toward land they will never witness.

Sometimes we spend so much time in water
we forget how to walk.

But the journey has been for generations.

I am connected to this earth.
I am connected to this place.

And I am learning to love this body.

This body that carries me.
It is a birthmark of survival.

I write myself into being.
I say this is me.
This is me.



Braille
by Briana Muñoz

I have become obsessed with his hands
I often sit and day dream about them

I have seen how they work against my skin
As he slowly slides them across my cheek
And looks at me like he’s never seen such a thing

I imagine his hands move the same way across
His leather-bound journals
Marking his pages with the same amount of passion
Descriptions of every disturbing thought that fill the nooks of his brain

With a pen in hand,
He turns my body into prose
Creates my anatomy into a Spenserian sonnet
He writes of my movements
But crumbles the pages and throws them away

I accept my words do no justice
Of explaining his existence


Meet the Poets
Nit pick by Lia Eliades
What he knows and doesn’t by Odilia Galván Rodríguez
ESPERANDO ABRIL por Elizabeth Cazessús
Niño cabellos de fuego por Brian Schwarzschild
You Became the Seasons When You Left by Sonia Gutiérrez
Te convertiste en las estaciones cuando te fuiste por Sonia Gutiérrez
Sin Razón de Amar por Zheyla Henriksen
[a prayer to the seven directions of Love] by Jenuine Blu
love song to those who died: the AIDS years 37 years later by Sharon Elliott
Que Nunca por Edward Vidaurre
DEEP WATERS by Lara Gularte
I Know of No Other Way... by Victor Avila
Canción nacida del viento by Elle Wonders
Ode Of Odysseus To The Siren, (a translation by Daniel García Ordaz)
Son plácidos los versos por Gabriel González Núñez
En San Francisco por enriKetta luissi
The Son of an Elotero by Andrea Mauk
The Time Traveler by Eduardo Leon Guizar
this body by Jo Reyes-Boitel
Braille by Briana Muñoz

Sharon Elliott has been a writer and poet activist over several decades beginning in the anti-war and civil rights movements in the 1960s and 70s, and four years in the Peace Corps in Nicaragua and Ecuador, especially in multicultural women’s issues. She is a Moderator of Poets Responding to SB1070, and has featured in poetry readings in the San Francisco Bay area. Her work has been published in several anthologies and her poem “Border Crossing” appears in the anthology entitled Poetry of Resistance: Voices for Social Justice, Francisco X. Alarcón and Odilia Galván Rodriguez, eds. She has read it in Los Angeles at AWP and La Pachanga 2016 book launch, in San Francisco, at the Féis Seattle (Scots gaelic language/culture workshop) Céiliedh in Port Townsend, WA and at Poetry Express in Berkeley. Her book, Jaguar Unfinished, was published by Prickly Pear Press, 2012.

Eduardo Leon Guizar. I'm college educated, single (never married) no kids, a nerd (cant hide it), tall? (6'3), I love to cook ridiculous meals, have absurd conversations, partake in adventure and what not, I'm a bit chubby but working on it everyday, I'm health conscious, don't smoke, will have the occasional drink (1 a week), and enjoy dancing. I write, I sing, hmm hmm, I have a weakness for chicken wings, though I fear I have said too much >.> also, love dogs and cats, I'm so so on kangaroos :/

jo reyes-boitel ~ poet and writer – third world latina mezcla - working class graphics designer - music researcher - libertada y realizada.

enriKetta luissi es poeta y autora de los libros de poesía: IIE, Dark Matter, Ostrich Sky, Disclosed, Re-Versed, y Emily.

Elizabeth Cazessús. Nacida En Tijuana, B.C. México. Es autora de once libros de poesía: Ritual ycanto, 1994, Veinte “Apuntes antes de Dormir, 1995; Mujer de Sal, 2000; Huella en el agua, IMAC 2001; Casa del sueño, 2006; Razones de la dama infiel, 2008 y 2012; Enediana, Ed. Giglico, 2010. Hijas de la Ira, Nódulo 2013; No es mentira este paraíso, 2009 y Desierto en Fuga, 2015. Colección de poesía, Cecut/Conaculta. Mujer que Vuela, Ediciones mañana Llovera, 2016; Hojarasca del Silencio. Cut Universidad/Fronterabierta

Brian Schwarzschild (Los Mochis, 1993) Radica en Tijuana. Es egresado de la Lic. en Lengua y Literatura de Hispanoamérica de la Facultad de Humanidades y Ciencias Sociales (UABC). Poeta y twittero. Ha publicado sus poemas en la revista Radiador No.2. y participado en el Encuentro Internacional de Poesía Caracol 2011 y Festival Binacional de Poesía Tijuana-San Diego (PoeTISA) 2013.

Zheyla Henriksen. Ecuatoriana. Reside en los EE.UU. Profesora jubilada. Obtuvo su doctorado en UC Davis. En 1967 obtiene en Ecuador el tercer lugar con el poema Fantasías en Los Primeros Juegos Florales Estudiantiles. Participa en el primer encuentro de poetisas ecuatorianas. Le entregan la Medalla al Mérito Cultural en Cuenca, Ecuador. Interviene en recitales poéticos y ponencias en Ecuador, Estados Unidos, Panamá, Canadá, Argentina, Cuba y España. Tiene tres libros publicados: Poemas dispersos, Caleidoscopio del recuerdo y Pedazos, los recuerdos y la tesis doctoral Tiempo sagrado y tiempo profano en Borges y Cortázar. La mayoría de sus ponencias han sido publicadas. Queda como una de los cinco o seis finalistas en el Concurso Internacional de Poesía Erótica en Gijón, España en 2004 y 2014. Participa con frecuencia en la Exhibición Internacional de Poemas Póster de Poetas Iberoamericanos Contemporáneos. Es miembro de Los Escritores del Nuevo Sol en Sacramento, EE.UU. y en el Círculo de Escritores. Dirige y baila en el Ballet Folklórico Ecuatoriano INTI-TULPA y participa en Jodette Belly Dance Academy presentándose en festivales culturales.

Gabriel González Núñez, uruguayo, vive en Brownsville, Texas. Es docente de la Universidad de Texas en el Valle del Río Grande, donde forma traductores e intérpretes. Ha publicado cuentos y microcuentos en las revistas La Marca Hispánica, Ventana Abierta, Círculo, Entre Líneas, Narrativas, Punto en Línea, Tiempos Oscuros, miNatura, El Narratorio y The Chachalaca Review. Fue galardonado con el Premio Platero 2012 en la categoría cuento. Recibió el segundo accésit del Premio Enrique Labrador Ruiz 2009 y mención de honor en el 36o Concurso Doctor Alberto Manini Ríos. También fue finalista del X Concurso Literario Gonzalo Rojas Pizarro. Asimismo, ha publicado poesía en la revista La Marca Hispánica y en la antología Boundless 2017. Lleva un blog literario en GabrielGonzalezNunez.wordpress.com.

Odilia Galván Rodríguez, poet, writer, editor, educator, and activist, is the author of six volumes of poetry, her latest, The Nature of Things, a collaboration with Texas photographer, Richard Loya, by Merced College Press 2016. Also, along with the late Francisco X. Alarcón, she edited the award-winning anthology, Poetry of Resistance: Voices for Social Justice, University of Arizona Press, 2016. This poetry of witness anthology, the first of its kind, because it came about because of the on-line organizing work of Alarcón, Galván Rodriguez, and other poet-activists which began as a response to the proposal of SB 1070, the racial profiling law which was eventually passed by the Arizona State Legislature in 2010, and later that year, HB 2281which bans ethnic studies. With the advent of the Facebook page Poets Responding (to SB 1070) thousands of poems were submitted witnessing racism, xenophobia, and other social justice issues which culminated in the anthology.

Galván Rodríguez has worked as an editor for various print media such as Matrix Women's News Magazine, Community Mural's Magazine, and Tricontinental Magazine in Havana, Cuba. She is currently, the editor of Cloud Women’s Quarterly Journal online; facilitates creative writing workshops nationally, and is director of Poets Responding to SB 1070, and Love and Prayers for Fukushima, both Facebook pages dedicated to bringing attention to social justice issues that affect the lives and wellbeing of many people and encouraging people to take action. Her poetry has appeared in numerous anthologies, and literary journals on and offline.

As an activist, she worked for the United Farm Workers of America AFL-CIO, The East Bay Institute for Urban Arts, has served on numerous boards and commissions, and is currently active in Women’s organizations whose mission it is to educate around environmental justice issues and disseminate an indigenous world view regarding the earth and people’s custodial relationship to it. Odilia Galván Rodríguez has a long and rich history of working for social justice in solidarity with activists from all ethnic groups.

Edward Vidaurre is the 2018 McAllen,Texas Poet Laureate and author of four collections of poetry. Vidaurre has been published in several literary journals and anthologies. His collection of poems, Jazzhouse, is forthcoming from Prickly Pear Press in 2018 and a chapbook, Ramona and rumi is also forthcoming from Hercules Press in the Summer of 2018. Vidaurre is the Director of Operations in 2018 for the Valley International Poetry Festival, moderator for Poets Responding, and founder of Pasts, Poetry & Vino - a reading series in the Rio Grande Valley. He resides in McAllen, Texas with his wife and daughter.

Jenuine Blu is a maker of weird things, a ponderer of strange musings, and a midwife of truth. She considers the work of making access to creative expression to be a matter of justice and is a non-negotiable among practices necessary for sustainability of individuals and communities. She currently dwells, creates, and is herself in San Antonio, TX; she calls Los Angeles, home. Connect with her on social media at: @jenuineartworks

José Héctor Cadena es escritor, poeta-académico, y artista visual. Creció a lo largo de la frontera San Ysidro/ Tijuana. Recibió su licenciatura de la Universidad Estatal de San Diego y su maestría en bellas artes de la Universidad Estatal de San Francisco. Actualmente esta trabajando en su doctorado en estudios Americanos en la Universidad de Kansas. José Héctor Cadena is a writer, poet-scholar, and visual artist. He grew up along the San Ysidro/Tijuana border. His has a bachelor’s degree from San Diego State University and Master of Fine Arts degree from San Francisco State University. He is currently a doctoral student in the Department of American Studies at The University of Kansas.

Elle Wonders. Poetry is born from telling stories that aren’t linear and sharing experiences that defy the logic of language. It’s born when my truest words fly into a V formation and migrate down the flyway - traveling from my mind to my fingertips. Not all truths will make It – some die along the way and some will stray from the flock, but these are a few who survived the journey.
When I’m not writing poetry or working on my novel, I spend my time teaching, painting, reading, or exploring the world and its many cultures. https://ellewonders.com

Victor Avila is an award-winning poet. His work has been widely anthologized. Recent work has appeared in the collection Poetry of Resistance. Victor also writes and illustrate the comic book series Hollywood Ghost Comix. He has taught in California public schools for almost thirty years.

Andrea García Mauk grew up in Arizona, where both the immense beauty and harsh realities of living in the desert shaped her artistic soul. She calls Whittier, CA. home. She sells real estate, fights against gentrification, and teaches theatre there. She has also lived in Chicago, New York and Boston. She has worked in the music industry, and on various film and television productions. She writes short fiction, poetry, original screenplays and adaptations, writes and produces plays for children, and has completed two novels. Her writing and artwork has been published and viewed in a variety of places such as on The Late, Late Show with Tom Snyder; The Journal of School Psychologists and Victorian Homes Magazine. Both her poetry and artwork have won awards. Several of her poems and a memoir are included in the 2011 anthology, Our Spirit, Our Reality, and her poetry ishas been featured in Hunches de Poesia and in several issues of Mujeres de Maiz “‘Zine.” Her poetry is also published in Poetry of Resistance: Voices for Social Justice and Sonadores: We Came to Dream. She has also been a moderator of Diving Deeper, an online workshop for writers, and has written extensively about music, especially jazz, while working in the entertainment industry. She has a cookbook project on the back burner. When she is not writing, she loves to take road trips, sing in front if an audience, and spend time with her dogs and horse.

Daniel García Ordaz is the founder of the Rio Grande Valley International Poetry Festival and the author of You Know What I'm Sayin'? His new collection, Cenzontle/Mockingbird: Songs of Empowerment (Poetry*Drama) is forthcoming. García, who recently completed his MFA in Creative Writing from UT-Rio Grande Valley, is an English teacher at McAllen High School. His work appears is Poetry of Resistance, La Bloga, Juventud!, and several other anthologies and journals.

Sonia Gutiérrez’s bilingual poems have appeared in the San Diego Poetry Annual, Konch Magazine, and Poetry of Resistance: Voices for Social Change. Her fiction has appeared in the London Journal of Fiction, Huizache, and AlternaCtive PublicaCtions. Sonia’s bilingual poetry collection, Spider Woman / La Mujer Araña, is her debut publication. She is a contributing editor for The Writer’s Response (Cengage Learning, 2016).

Currently, she is moderating Facebook’s Poets Responding, submitting Legacy / Herencia for publication, working on her manuscript, Sana Sana Colita de Rana, and completing her novel, Kissing Dreams from a Distance. Her bilingual poem “Super Pancho from the Land of Maíz” with artwork by Victor Ochoa and Spanglish translation by Francisco J. Bustos is forthcoming in AlternaCtive PublicaCtions. Her bilingual poem, “You Became the Seasons When You Left” / “Te convertiste en las estaciones cuando te fuiste,” appears in her manuscript, Sana Sana Colita de Rana.