Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed Y Tambien Blue

Halfway into my writing of this Thursday's piece on Mexican artist Martin Ramirez, I realized that I have been part of La Bloga for almost a year now. I would like to take this opportunity to thank the members of La Bloga for the platform that has brought me such delight. Below is my earliest post in full. Mil Gracias a todos.

Something Old

Published in 1975, “Chicano Poems: for the Barrio,” is the first of only a handful of books by Angela De Hoyos. While reading “Chicano Poems,” the voice and image of the late great Abelardo “Lalo” Delgado reverberated and appeared throughout my mind. The coraje, mañas, costumbres, y callejeras of her barrrios de San Anto mirrored Lalo’s El Paso and Lalo’s Denver.

In, “Who Killed Brown Love?” De Hoyos responds, “I did/ - dijo el hombre blanco -/ with my little knife/ cuchillito de palo/ slowly but surely/ magullando." My personal favorite is the titled, “Chicano:” “How to paint/ on this page/ the enigma/ that furrows/ your sensitive/ brown face/ - a sadness,” writes De Hoyos. “Porque te llamas/ Juan, y no John/ as the laws/ of assimilation/ dictate."

When reading De Hoyos you will find that her every poem is a barrio in itself, populated with rage, habits, customs, and troubled streets. Que Viva De Hoyos!

Chicano Poems: for the Barrio. By Angela De Hoyos. M&A Editions, 1975

Something New

Not that it matters, but my vote for Latino Lit’s freshest prospect is the young Boricua from San Juan, Puerto Rico. Kevin A. Gonzalez’s, “The Night Tito Trindad KO’ed Ricardo Mayorga,” is a knockout of a first book. Each poem hit me like Tito’s legendary left hook. No doubt the accolades for this young poeta are well deserved.

What Gonzalez does best is what I love the most about Latino writers, they write what they know by infusing culture. “…you wrote about the kioskos/ in Luquillo, Puerto Rico,” writes Gonzalez in his poem titled “Cultural Sellout.” The fritoleras’ hands scarred/ by the bursting pounce of oil, / coconuts like green bowling balls on ice.” And later in the verse, his beloved Neruda makes an appearance, “Gold wounds/ & reigns over the wounded, / & can you borrow that Neruda line/ & still call this your poem?”

Of all the reasons I believe Gonzalez is a champ in the making, it is the manner in which he vicariously exposes himself through his influences. With the awe and embarrassment of a child, he finds himself exchanging punches with Tito Trinidad, playing catch with Roberto Clemente, and having a café con leche with Neruda. Gonzalez Bumaye!

The Night Tito Trinidad KO’ed Ricardo Mayorga. By Kevin A Gonzalez. Momotombo Press 2007.

Something Borrowed y tambien Blue

The following poem was written six years ago by a student in my creative writing class during his freshman year in high school. Anthony Dominguez is now married and a soldier in Iraq.

Only 4 years old

I was in 7th hour of my 8th grade year
I heard my name over the speaker
They said it was an emergency
My heart dropped as I ran through the hall
When I get to the car, they say it is your brother
He’s hurt
We don’t know much
But he’s at Arvada hospital now
As we rush to the hospital
I think sad thoughts
How I was mean and yelled at him
I sat there thinking
How was he
Was he hurt, sad, lonely?
How was he feeling?
I saw my mom and Chuy outside his room
The father from church and other family too
They didn’t want me to see him
But I pushed my way through
I saw little Adam
He was attached with tubes
And wires and things
My heart fell slowly
A part of me died
I lost all the love and the feelings inside
I didn’t think I’d ever see them again
I lost it
Outside the room
The cops asked me questions
I answered none
Father Fox said please stop son
They wanna help
But I left in a fury
Cops right behind
I run outside
While I’m burning inside
Feels like fire runs through my veins
The doctor says we’ll air lift him, we don’t have the medical attention he needs
When I get in the car
I feel the pain
As if I was there with him
But I don’t now if he’s hurt dead or alive
Why and how did this happen
I don’t understand
I pray to the lord please help
Take me instead
I asked why you let him
Why didn’t you protect him?
Then I run up to his room
I see my critical brother
He is lying in the bed
He is limp
Not moving
Hooked up to machines
I feel his heartbeat slow
The anger towards life begins to grow
Then I swallow my tongue
Try not to cry
I need emotion to get out
I just wanna die
I go to my family
They see I wanna cry
They try and try to comfort me
Then without notice
I leave in a fury
I can’t slow down
I wanna stop but I can’t
But I feel in control
With tears streaming down my face
I hit the wall
I smash the picture and frames
Glass on my fists
The pain starts to ease
When I see the blood flow
I know I’m in control
I see the puto Chuy
Who sits there alone
Guilt on his face
I ask him if he did it
He says no, “te lo curo”
I say, ok, I believe you
Then shake his hand
But in my heart
I don’t believe him
Then the doctor comes in
Cops right by his side
Tell Chuy you’re comin’ with us
Let’s go for a ride
My mother asks, why
The doctor says, Adam has trauma to
To the back of the head
Impact equivalent to a 4 story drop
They take Chuy away
All I feel is hurt
How he lied to me
My best friend
Hurting Adam
My blood
I see him, no movement
I tell him, I’m sorry
For not being there to help
I want him to be ok
My life has fell down
On top of my head
I pray and pray to Jesus
But he gives me no response
The doctor says he is brain dead
He has no chance at life
I close my eyes and see his soul float up to the light
Doctor says we have to pull the plug
Then we all begin to cry
They gather us in a little room
To get the damn thing done
As we wait for the doctor to come in
He breaks down, starts balling in the hall
He doesn’t’ want to do it
Then he is finally able to overcome
When he comes to the room
He pulls the tube from his throat
My hand on his chest
His heart beats fast
And then becomes very slow
As I feel the last beat
I kiss him goodbye
I feel he is free up in the sky
When I left the room
I left part of my heart
I am closed like a safe without a key
Nothing goes in, nothing goes out
My mom tells me funeral’s Monday
Time seems to stop
As for Chuy, he’s doing 38 years
Child abuse resulting in death
I don’t think he’ll get out
I think he’ll go mad
But I got no feelings for a killing man
Adam only 4 years old, barely started his life
His life died. I love him.
Why’d Chuy got to take his life?

Talleres de Poesía

by Aleph (Alex Sanchez), Salvadoran painter and committee member 

The first Festival Talleres de Poesía will take place in San Salvador, El Salvador this November 8-10. Many events are taking place in different cities in order to raise funds for this event that will promote books and literature in El Salvador.

This wonderful project is being organized by children books' author, Jorge Argueta and the Talleres de Poesia commitee in San Francisco and San Salvador, with the collaboration of the Director of the National Library of El Salvador, Salvadoran author, Manlio Argueta.

The Children's Poetry Festival will be held at the National Library in San Salvador in November 2010. Renowned poets will be conducting writing workshops to Salvadoran children and youth.

The theme of the workshops will be the importance of reading and significance of peace for Salvadoran children and youth. They will also have the opportunity to enhance their writing skills and learn techniques on how to write their experiences through poetry.

We are asking for your collaboration to help us make this event a success. We are raising funds for the necessary materials needed to make the First Children's Poetry Festival a reality in El Salvador.

Here are two ways you can help:

You can make your donation directly
to the Talleres de Poesia
account # 0006696
Mission Federal Credit Union
3269 Mission St.
San Francisco, CA 94110

or

or you can mail a check to:
Talleres de Poesia
90 Bepler St.
Daly City, CA 94014

Thank you in advance for your support!

Event in San Francisco in support of the

First Annual Poetry Festival in El Salvador 
(Nov 2010)

Date: Saturday, July 17, 2010

Time:5:00pm - 8:00pm

Location: El Patio Restaurant

Street: 3193 Mission St.

Live music by Grupo Conciencia and amigos Goldband, poetry for children and adults, clowns, riffles and many more exciting surprises.

Los esperamos - gracias!
Please join us - thank you!

Event in Los Angeles

Date: Sunday,  August 15,  2010

Time:1:00pm - 4:00pm

Location:Tia Chucha's Cafe Cultural

Street: 13197-A Gladstone Ave.
Sylmar, CA 91342 

We will have children's book authors, Salvadoran food, Two popular characters will be taking pictures with kids, face painting /children activities, and more upcoming surprises.

 If you want to be a volunteer, please contact Tia Chucha's.

Fax: (818) 367-5600
info@tiachucha.com

San Francisco's  Artists and Children's Book Authors have started to donate for the upcoming Children's Poetry Festival in El Salvador. Art and Books will be available at upcoming fundraising events. Take a look of some of the art.

donated by Huracan Gomez

painting by Nicaraguan Artist Aristides Cisneros

  

Native American Prayer Necklace

Hand-made by Mexica Artist, Antonio Chavez

donated by Chicano artist Francisco "Kalakas" Alonso

For more information visit Talleres de Poesía Bookface page 

http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001174590167&ref=ts

Review: Writing on the Edge. Book Give-Away. Foto ID Help. On-Line Floricanto

Border literature anthology too much but not enough.

Michael Sedano

Tom Miller. Writing on the Edge. A Borderlands Reader. Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 2003.
ISBN 978-0-8165-2241-5

Tom Miller adds to his storied borderland accomplishments with an exhaustingly comprehensive anthology that covers the US-Mexico borderland from TJ to Tamaulipas, from New York City to Modesto Califas, with extended visits to Juarez/El Paso.

Readers already familiar with Miller's wonderful collection of his own travel writing, Revenge of the Saguaro, know he's a writer with a yen for research and a pen with a funnybone. Miller's eye takes in the obvious, like Rosa's cantina or black velvet painting that any eye sees, then digs deeply to share penetrating insight knit into a fascinating fabric of hitherto unknown facts. Put down the completed Miller and you've filled gaps you didn't know existed.

Miller's and the University of Arizona Press' 2003 publication, Writing on the Edge A Borderlands Reader, offers the same kind of experience. Clearly a product of keen research, Miller shares snippets about la frontera from poets, novelists, historians, and memoirists, gente like José Vasconcelos, Grahame Greene, Oscar Zeta Acosta, Maya Angelou, Sam Shepard, Elena Poniatowska, Demetria Martínez, Alicia Gaspar de Alba, William Carlos Williams, and on and on and on, with eighty-one writers (plus two anonymous pieces) filling out a fabulous table of contents.

And there's the rub, the problem--if there's any--with this collection. Miller packs in so much good work between the covers of the 360 page volume, there's simply not enough meat--other than poems, which inherently come in compact wholes--to dig into. Writing on the Edge is like standing at the best buffet spread you've ever seen but served by one of those new-fangled minimalist chefs who think a lettuce leaf with a dab of sauce and an anchovy rib is a stomach-stretching salad.


Ni modo. There's no time limit to reading Writing on the Edge so you can savor each sample at its own pace, then come back for a second helping and never grow sated. Of course, you'll want more. Miller's added a key resource as the final 27 pages: author bios as well as a conventional alphabetized listing of original sources. Another grand resource comes via the internet, Miller's PDF literary map of the contents, allowing a reader to see on a map where along the border a piece lies, with a sidebar listing the authors and titles by place, and on a second screen, a UofA Press bibliography to extend the breadth of one's post-anthology reading.

Although Miller divides the collection into eight segments, each having its own ideational unity, I see the collection having fundamentally two kinds of border writing: Insider and Outsider work. La frontera, to many an Outsider, satisfies one's sense of adventure with a taste of the exotic. For some writers, Outsiderness engenders viewing the border distastefully, and ultimately as depraved. It's not merely the Anglo writer who draws such conclusions. Zeta, Oscar Acosta, writes about Juarez justice with an Insider-as-Outsider witlessness that characterizes the oxymoron of being Chicana Chicano. As the judge tells Acosta, he should spend less time whoring around Mexico and more learning his father's language. Ouch.

Insider writing celebrates the gente and cultura of the region but with a clear sense of the looming otherness of el otro lado. Miller supplies an extended example of this from Charles Bowden's Blue Desert. A pair of good-hearted Estadunidenses walk a mile in a border-crosser's boots, forty-five times. They walk the route taken by thousands of undocumented men, women children. Starting from a truckstop in the middle of the Mexican Sonora desert to a spot on Interstate 8, the journey can be lethal. It's no walk in the parque. The well-equipped Bowden and buddy find it daunting but doable. Unlike true undocumented immigrants, the pair of Outsiders-as-Insiders end their sixteen hour hike devouring iced tea and breakfast at a diner in Tacna AZ.

Writing on the Edge is filled with delights as well as ironies. One or two pieces will prove irritating in the writer's self-disclosure of the kind of xenophobia that magnifies itself into something like Arizona hate laws. But Miller doesn't take the collection that far. He's made a wise decision to keep extremism out of the mix. Look around--read the poetry below--there's ample work highlighting our divisions. Writing on the Edge helps build bridges, not walls, lets a reader with eyes open see and understand the humanity, humor, contradictions and aspirations that characterize that long southern border and its gente.

Writing on the Edge has been out there since 2003. I'd not wait another year to get a copy. Not that the material is getting old or outdated--some goes back to the mid-19th century--but with so much new stuff being written today, Tom Miller's provided a useful volume to catch up on material that fills gaps some readers didn't know existed. And if it's too much of not enough, follow up with the original sources and extend the enjoyment.

Free Belinda Acosta Novel - La Bloga / Hachette Book Give-Away.


Just what makes a book "a woman's book"? My mother is a woman of few words, and that is her description, and recommendation, of Belinda Acosta's newly released novel, Sisters, Strangers, and Starting Over.

My mother, who recently came to live with me and my wife, fits the "avid reader" description to a "T". Books, books, books filled her home to offer a major clean-out hurdle as we vacated the old family homestead. Now she's begun a new collection, with this novel, that the publisher describes in a way that my mom may see parallels her own life and the plot: Beatriz Sánchez-Milligan is shocked when her 14-year-old niece, Celeste, stumbles into her 25th wedding anniversary party. Celeste reveals that her mother, Perla, has died and that she has nowhere else to go. Beatriz immediately takes Celeste in

I will read the novel when my mother finishes, and review it here at La Bloga. In the meantime, La Bloga is giving away one free copy right now. If you're the person who receives it, you're invited to pen your own review of Sisters, Strangers, and Starting Over and share it as a La Bloga guest columnist! Why not?

To get the single free copy Hachette authorizes La Bloga to give away, click here. In your email, provide your mailing address--U.S. only, lastima and disculpa--with the answer to this question: How many miles did Charles Bowden walk to get to Tacna?

The winner will be selected at random from all the correct answers received on July 13 as of 1700 Pacific time (that's 5:00 p.m. in El Lay). Suerte, readers.

Flor y canto graphic by Magú. Prismacolor on artboard. ©2009 by Magú.

Festival de Flor y Canto. Yesterday • Today • Tomorrow

The University of Southern California's Doheny Memorial Library will soon announce the final schedule for the almost 50 writers who will be presenting their work on September 15, 16, 17, 2010. USC, site of the 1973 Festival de Flor y Canto, is celebrating Chicana Chicano Latina Latino poetry, novels, and short fiction in this three-day event open to the public and, except for the $8.00 parking fee, free.

USC has invited poets whose videotaped performances in 1973 have been digitized and will be released to the public as part of the Digital Library Initiative of Doheny Memorial Library. A number of leading contemporary poets and writers are included in the roster. Rounding out the list of readers will be a handful of young writers, some making their debut appearance in a major festival.

Festival de Flor y Canto. Yesterday • Today • Tomorrow is mounting a gallery showing of photographs taken of 1973 performers by Michael Sedano. The photo exhibition will have a gala opening on the festival's final day, and runs for several months thereafter.

Some of the photographs do not yet have identifications. If you recognize any of the people below (not all will hang in the exhibition but Sedano would like the identities) please click the link below each image to send the subject's name and whereabouts to Michael Sedano, who will provide los datos to the exhibition Curator.

Note: click the title of this La Bloga post to view a set of pages of fotos that require identifications. Thank you de antemano for your valued assistance. If you are in any of these fotos, send email to msedano to receive a printable file of yourself from back in 1973.


Click here to identify this reader.

Click here to identify man at lectern.

Click here to identify smiling man at microphone.

Click here to identify the man on left, or the woman--a poet?--at right.

Click here to identify Prof Loera or provide a link.



On-Line Floricanto. Poets Respond to Arizona Hate Legislation.

"Know the Names of Things" by Lorna Dee Cervantes
"The Last and Lasting Glance" by Susmita Chatterjee Paul
"Fourth of July Poem" by A. D. Winans
"When The World Ends in My Garden" by Andrea Hernández Holm
“Diluyamos las fronteras” por Margarita Robleda
"Este Poema / This Poem" by Francisco X. Alarcón
"Keeping it Real" by Rose Valencia


Know the Names of Things
by Lorna Dee Cervantes

for immigrants everywhere anytime


Know the names of things.
How 3+1 equals nada
in a barrio flat. How many
unknowns there are in a single
bottle of pills. How much
it costs to breath through
the nicotine, the anxiety,
the three times a million lost
nickels in the foreign exchange,
in a bushel of sterile seed.

Know the names of things.
How to live. How to love
the you in all. How to call
out to the impoverished ancestors.
How to feed a future. Call
it what you will. Call power
in a name. Name the world
to own it. Learn hammer
and sickle. Learn the many
names for drought. Name the
expedient past, the succumbing future.
Name what you will. Will what
you name. The power of the tsunami
in the syllables of truth, the reconstruction
of the hurricane in the uplifting vowels.
Learn the names of all the treaties
never honored by our government.
Name the dead, too.

Know the names of things.
How to count. Count the many ways
life changes life and death
changes nothing and never gives.
There is a way if you name
it. If you follow it the road
will come. Be the strings that hold
up this house of time held
by the wisdom of the abuelas
with words holding taut the strands.
In the beginning was an absence.
Name that, too.

Know the names of things.
How to tell the singer
from the song. How to swear
on a star, become the jury
of one. How to tell over
the cacophony of a thieving
crow. How to chant the mastery
of who enslaves whom, who orders
the gun, the bomb, the shock
and awesome truth. Name this, too.

Know the names of things:
auricle from ventricle, aorta
from vena cavae, arteries from
aurioles; all matters of the heart.
Save with the words for it.
Then be it, a savior
with your words. We,
the named, we, knowers
know the power, the power to name,
to see, to know, belongs
to the perceiver, the receiver
of knowledge — all in a name:
our name, your name, the stolen
names, the original names,
the slaughtered names, the slaughtering
names, names for The People for people
who need no names, who need food,
who need the crystal water
because 3+1 in a barrio flat
equals nada. Name this, too.

Know the names of things.
and heal.



6/11/10
Lorna Dee Cervantes



The last and lasting glance
By Susmita Chatterjee Paul

Across the strange borders,
I see myself blooming:
in forgotten pathways,
in manicured gardens,
in bonsai artefacts,
in frozen mummies.

My eye sees the horizon...
a few dotted lines
-lines in pink, blue and green-
cast the slippery wet norms.

The me in the mirror is refracted.
They tell me, it's you.

I spread my hands
and follow my master,
floating in the air,
above the anomalies of the self:

as I float by your universe,
memoirs of the road
sting my feet
...
I was so sure
I touched me in you

photograph: Himalayas, Uttarakhand, India; self





FOURTH OF JULY POEM
By A. D. Winans


stepped on, pissed on
cheated and abused
taken advantage of blue collar man
caught up in the American scam
don’t tell me anyone
can be anything they want to be
if they put their minds to it
bull shit crap laid on like butter
on the working class stiff

save your message for
the deaf dumb and blind
it’ll never sell in the ghetto
or to the immigrants
you’ve turned your back on
high-fiving, jiving court jester
with an act as old as death
out of step reeking from bad breath

take your message to the church
tell it to the men on death row
tell it to the starving poor
tell it to the sick and lame
tell it to the rich folks
tell it to the politicians
tell it to the serial killers
tell it to the bankers
tell it to Wall Street
tell it to the union busters
tell it to the man on the gallows
tell it to the cowardly terrorists
tell it to the last man at the Alamo
tell it to the chiseled faces on Mount Rushmore
tell it to Madonna
tell it to the street whore
tell it to the last wino on the bowery
tell it to the butcher
tell it to the unemployed
tell it to the circus clown
tell it to the insane
tell it to the outlaw
tell it to the in-laws
tell it to the panhandler
tell it to the conman
tell it to the baby found stuffed
in a garbage can
tell it to the displaced factory worker
tell it to the elderly
tell it to the re-po man
tell it to the academics
tell it to the poetry politicians
tell it to the last space alien
hiding out in Roswell
tell it to the militia
tell it to the FBI sharpshooters
at Ruby Ridge
tell it to the arsonists at Waco, Texas
tell it to the junkie with dry heaves
tell it to the farm worker
tell it to the dishwasher
tell it to the orderlies
tell it to the flag waver
tell it to the Chinese peasants
working the rice fields
for a dollar a day
tell it to the garment worker
slaving away in sweat shops in Chinatown
and the Latin Quarter
tell it to the garbage man
tell it to corporate America selling
torture devises to fascist nations
tell it to big business
tell it to the oil barons
tell it to the tobacco merchants
tell it to the children addicted
to television and video games
tell it to the fur industry
who club live baby seals to death
for the clothing merchants
with blood on their hands
tell it to the molested children
tell it to the battered wives of America
tell it to the pharmacy industry dispensing
billions of dollars of drugs each year
tell it to the millions of people
dying from air pollution in Mexico and abroad
tell it to the man on his deathbed
not sure why he lived or what he is dying for
tell it to Jesus Christ
shout it to the stars
line the traitors up against the wall
rewrite the Ten Commandments
and start all over again






When The World Ends in My Garden
By Andrea Hernández Holm


I melt in the leftover sunlight
While la luna,
Resting heavy and pregnant above the Catalinas,
Waits for her turn in the sky.
Sweat stings the corner of my eye
Where the crow has left her mark.

I breathe easy enough
Thankful
Somewhat blessed and peaceful
Because I have given myself nothing
But the calm of this moment
That I choose not to share
With angry children,
unhappy parents, troubled friends,
Oppressed hermanos, thirsting travelers
Burning turtles, drowning cranes, dying dolphins
Sweltering deserts, blistering feet, broken limbs
Empty wallets, hollow words, or shattered hearts.

I gather strength from this moment
From the deep sweet smell of mesquite pollen
Wet as I water where the wind has carried it among
The roses, the sunflowers, the tiger aloe
The mums, the nopales, the lantana,
The cat’s claw, the barell cactus, the geranium,
The yerba buena, and all the plants whose names I don’t know.
The birds watch me suspiciously from atop the cacti
And between the vines clinging to the wall
Chirping, singing their praises when they see the earth
Darken as it drinks the water I offer it.

I need this fraction of time
When the waters
And I
Move only to the rhythm of the moon overhead
A brief respite from the anger of the day.

I turn to offer my thanks
My heart full
And my moment
Begins to splinter from the inside out.
I am the epicenter
Quaking, trembling
As I realize that the sun has fallen
Plummeted to the earth
In my backyard.

His shards pierce the hard dirt
Like knives penetrating flesh.

I scoop up pieces, squinting through the night
Trying to find each fragment
Before the water rushing from the hose
that I've dropped in the dirt
Washes them away through the opening in the wall
Down through the arroyo and deep into the desert.

Tonatiuh, come back.
Tonatiuh, come back.

I sing frantically to myself,
Keep going, don’t stop to cry
Don’t stop to question or worry or fear
What every moment after this will bring.


Andrea Hernandez Holm








DILUYAMOS LAS FRONTERAS
Margarita Robleda

No vine nomás hasta aquí
pa´hacerte la guerra,
ni pa´robar tu ganado,
ni pa´volarte la novia,
ni pa´colarme en la noche,
como un ladrón cualquiera.

Vine a darte mi mano,
pá que juntos
construyamos la casa,
y que unidos,
inmigrantes casi todos,
junto con los herederos,
inventemos a esta gran nación.

No me pidas que me hinque
ni que agache la cabeza,
no esperes que te suplique,
ni que humille a mi descendencia;
que pa´eso tengo bien presente
quienes fueron mis abuelos:
talentosos arquitectos,
matemáticos brillantes,
que hasta inventaron el cero.
Artistas, artesanos,
hombres y mujeres de bien;
alegres, trabajadores y cariñosos;
astrónomos y sacerdotes.
También, pa´que negarlo,
hombres águilas,
caballeros tigres:
feroces guerreros.

Sí, las fronteras
las inventaron los hombres,
que los hombres las derriben;
que una sola es la casa,
una sola es el alma.
Y si una sola es la tierra,
una sola, también,
es la herida.
Que seres humanos somos todos
sin importar el color.
Y si una es la sangre...
¿Por qué no podemos pedir
que sea uno solo el corazón?
Que nos llamemos hermanos,
hermanas,
que compartamos el pan,
la alegría y el dolor?

Yo quiero darte mi canto,
mi risa y mi cultura de más 5000 años;
quiero aprender de ti
constancia, tenacidad,
tu capacidad de prever el futuro;
quizás,
hasta un poquito,
un cachito tan sólo…
de tu cordura.

Noche y día,
Día y noche;
que dancen las estrellas,
que suenen los cascabeles,
que hoy estamos de fiesta;
que la tierra es de todos.
¡Viva la independencia!
Sin importar los límites,
sin importar las lenguas;
que el respeto
sea el salvoconducto
que diluya las fronteras.

Sabemos que el que se cierra, pierde;
que la conciencia de ello,
nos permita reencontrarnos
y derribe nuestras barreras:
las tuyas, las mías
las de los mercaderes,
las del egoísmo,
las del miedo,
las de los gobernantes;
las del hambre.

No vine nomás hasta aquí
pa´ robarles nada...
Vine a compartirles la vida:
el sudor, la sangre,
el cariño,
la alegría,
los sueños
y la esperanza.


Sep. 15 de 1997
Mc Allen TX Fiesta de El Grito en el Consulado.






"Este poema / This Poem" by Francisco X. Alarcon

I have translated the poem into Spanish. These are the versions in Spanish and English of "THIS POEM." I envision the poem in three columns so that the poem could be read vertically, horizontally, diagonally, or on any way the reader may decide to read it.





ESTE POEMA

a Poetas Respondiendo a SB 1070

Por Francisco X. Alarcón

*
este poema
está si nombrar
sin enlistar

andando está
antes de salir
el sol

esperando
el siguiente autobús
o camión de labor

este poema
no tiene página
sino calor carnal

sus líneas poéticas
son las arrugas
en su piel

besos al anochecer
besos al amanecer
lo hacen rimar

este poema
tiene la cadencia
que da el abrazar

amorosos senos
brazos y muslos
para noches sin dormir

cantando con fe
la canción de esta Tierra
de la Oportunidad

*
este poema
es tan quieto como
la noche del desierto

las estrellas del cielo
marcan en sus versos
la puntuación

las ramas de árboles
este poema lo pueden
de memoria recitar

este poema
tiene los mismos
sueños que tú

las mismas
pesadillas
metas y temor

temblando
ante los noticieros
su persecusión

este poema
nada podrá tener
pero cara sí

es un joven brillante
atrapado en lo oscuro
de esta tierra de nadie

sin alma, sin sueños
que un Acta de Sueños
podría desvanecer

*
este poema
al final del autobús
se pone a llorar

al ir del viejo barrio
del centro urbano
a los suburbios

lágrimas de niños
borran las líneas
de este poema

este poema
es una madre
un padre

un vecino
un ser humano
de carne y hueso

caminando para ir
a comprar comida
pañales de desechar

este poema está
más allá de cualquier
antología de poesía

“tenemos corazón
alma y familia
igual que tú”

este poema es
el poema de esta Tierra
que está por escribir


© 2010 Francisco X, Alarcón

THIS POEM

to Poets Responding to SB 1070
By Francisco X. Alarcón

*
this poem
is nameless
unlisted

already up
before the Sun
comes out

waiting for
the next bus
pick-up truck

this poem
is pageless
but warm flesh

wrinkles
on skin mark
its poetic lines

night kisses
morning kisses
its best rhymes

this poem
has the cadence
of embraces

loving breasts
arms and thighs
for sleepless nights

faithfully singing
the song of this Land
of Opportunity

*
this poem
is as quiet as
the desert night

sky stars are
the punctuation
marks of its verses

tree branches
recite this poem
by heart

this poem
has the same
dreams as you

the same
nightmares
goals and fears

trembling
before the news
of its own demise

this poem
is everything
but faceless

is a bright teenager
trapped in the dark
soulless, dreamless

no man’s land
that a Dream Act
could just vanish

*
this poem
cries on the last
seat rows of the bus

leaving the inner
urban old barrio
for the suburbs

children’s tears
wipe out the lines
of this poem

this poem
is a mother
a father

a neighbor
a human being
bone and flesh

walking around
buying groceries
disposable diapers

this poem
is beyond any
poetry anthology

“we have a heart
a soul, a familia
just like you”

this poem
is the unwritten
poem of this land


© 2010 Francisco X, Alarcón





"Keeping it Real" by Rose Valencia

Wrote this about seven years ago...and nothing has changed at all, it's only gotten worse.

Eduardo Y Jesus
(EdWardo & Hay-suse)
traveled the dangerous journey
to our "Land of Milk & Honey."
They weren't trying to take your jobs,
your females or property.
They were two men, simply trying
to support their families.

Jesus perished.
Arizonas' ruthless sun fried him
like an egg.
Laying there delirious
I wonder if he thought about
his wife and children
within his last lucid thoughts.
A Mexican man
died a horrible death
on American soil.

His brother Eduardo
watched on in horror,
trying to hang on,
while his brother passed over
writhing in agony,
into the next life.

I felt deep sadness.
Watching this grown man
on the ten o'clock news.
Laying there in his hospital bed
Only Intravenous lines,
& oxygen,
keeping him alive.

The tears in his eyes
did not measure
the sea of pain
drowning his floundering heart.
He told us how his brother
perished,foaming at the mouth.

In my eyes
they are the new
Freedom Fighters
They have my respect.
Remember this true story
next time you feel angry
at those "WETBACKS"
BEANERS AND SPICS."

They pick your fresh veggies.
Scrub your toilets.
Serve cocktails poolside.
They stand around on corners,
groups of dark skinned men in straw hats.
They ain't sellin' rock
or trying to suck dick.
This is America baby,
for them this is IT!
Opportunities await!

A last chance,
to feed those babies.
They ain't as lazy
or low down as you think.
Workin' 25 hours a day
10 days a week,
gettin' paid under the table.
Same jobs our fellow Americans
are more then able,
to do, but WON'T!
'Cuz it ain't cool
or 4.00 per hour pay ain't about shit!
This is what they risk death & life for.
Pride.
Try livin' it.
Jesus died keepin' it real.

Rose Valencia
(C) 2002-2010



BIOS

"Know the Names of Things" by Lorna Dee Cervantes
"The Last and Lasting Glance" by Susmita Chatterjee Paul
"Fourth of July Poem" by A. D. Winans
"When The World Ends in My Garden" by Andrea Hernández Holm
“Diluyamos las fronteras” por Margarita Robleda
"Este Poema / This Poem" by Francisco X. Alarcón
"Keeping it Real" by Rose Valencia

"Know the Names of Things" by Lorna Dee Cervantes

"The Last and Lasting Glance" by Susmita Chatterjee PaulSusmita Paul has done her Masters in English Literature from University of Calcutta in India. She has worked as a Part-Time Lecturer at two Undergraduate colleges in Kolkata, India. Writing is her passion and she is deeply interested in reading about history and cultures of people across the globe.

"Fourth of July Poem" by A. D. Winans

"When The World Ends in My Garden" by Andrea Hernández Holm

“Diluyamos las fronteras” por Margarita RobledaMargarita Robleda Moguel, nació en Mérida Yucatán México el 25 de abril de 1950. Su madre nació en San Antonio Texas, lugar de residencia de sus abuelos por más de 60 años, por lo que ella creció disfrutando el ir y venir y se reconoce: bilingual, bicultural, but most of all, by heart!

Ha escrito cerca de 100 canciones y 107 libros publicados en México, Colombia y los Estados Unidos. En este país, empresas como Houghton Mifflin, Scott Foresman, Schollastic, Mcgraw Hill, Hampton Brown y Hardcourt Brace han incluido sus cuentos dentro de sus programas bilingües. Santillana USA le publicó la colección de cuentos para los más pequeños: “Rana, Rema Rimas” y le tiene especial cariño a sus libros “Paco, un niño latino en los Estados Unidos” y “María, una niña latina en los Estados Unidos” ambos en inglés y en español, porque los tejió pensando en ofrecerles a los jóvenes información que les ayudará a fortalecer el orgullo de sus raíces.

Con frecuencia es invitada dar conferencias y talleres a maestros y padres de familia así como a las escuelas y ferias de libros para que los niños y niñas tengan la oportunidad de conocer a una autora latina. En esos casos, le gusta decirle a su público: “Aquí no hay mojados ni colados, estamos en este país para compartir. ¿Para qué estamos en este país? ¡Para compartir! –gritan alegremente los niños y las niñas. “Y mi abuelo hizo el Castillo de Chichen Itzá, ¡ha, ha!, Sin computadora, ¡ha, ha, sin metales, sin maquinaria pesada… es más, le dio el cero a Microsoft para que hagan la computadora”.

Como parte de la Secretaria de Turismo federal, fue directora por el lado mexicano del Proyecto Binacional de Los Caminos del Río, por lo que vivió muy de cerca la vida diaria de la frontera Texas-Tamaulipas. Cuando se presentó en George Town University en un encuentro nacional de Heritage Corridors, Margarita leyó su primer poema en ingles que le valió que en la plenaria, frente a cerca de 1000 especialistas de todo el país, se le mencionara: “Agradecemos la presencia de Margarita Robleda de México porque nos vino a recordar el idioma de los sentimientos y del corazón”.

En este momento presenta charlas de prevención a jóvenes del estado Campeche en México y diluye fronteras con el Sur, haciéndole lagartijas a las neuronas y cosquillas al corazón de las personas, sin importar la edad, de Cuba, Ecuador, El Salvador y Guatemala.

Es Premio Nacional de Cuentos para Niños 1991 por Bellas Artes en México. Premio El Caracol por su oralidad en 2009 y recibió las llaves de la ciudad de Port Arthur Texas, aunque nadie le dijo dónde se encuentra la puerta, por lo que, como en todo, sigue en camino, en búsqueda, siempre en proceso intentando diluir fronteras de aquí y de ahí, visibles o no.

"Este Poema / This Poem" by Francisco X. Alarcón

"Keeping it Real" by Rose ValenciaRose Valencia Sanchez was born to Santos and Claudia Valencia in East Los Angeles California. Although her family was poor financially, they were rich in love. Rose developed a love for words and reading at a young age, due to playing word games, and reading together with her family. She also enjoyed listening to the many stories of her fathers childhood in New Mexico. He painted such a vivid picture with his words, that Rose aspired to do the same.

By the time she was in 6th grade Rose and her parents moved to Mesa, Arizona. There Rose met an inspirational teacher, Mr Lance McClure who encouraged Rose to write what came from her heart, instead of trying to please others. Currently, Rose feels she is "horrible" at writing that "love stuff" poetry, and her passion is writing about issues that plague society.Particularly, intolerance & racism. Rose feels that so much can be taught, and expressed through poetry and the written word, and her goal is to give the gift of understanding, and healing to others.

Rose is currently living in Arizona, and is fighting against the racial intolerance and hatred aimed at the people she was always taught to be so proud of. The first thing you see when you walk up to Rose's front door is a sign on her front window that states "NO SB1070." She carries this statement inside her heart, and it fills up her every waking moment. If all she has to fight this battle with is her words, then her weapon is drawn, and she is ready for battle.

Anthology celebrates milestone series in Chicano and Latino literature

Book review by Daniel Olivas

Camino del Sol: Fifteen Years of Latino and Latina Writing (University of Arizona Press, $24.95 paperback), edited by Rigoberto González, showcases the best of the acclaimed anthology series published by the University of Arizona Press since 1994. As González explains in the introduction, the Camino del Sol series was the brainchild of editor-writer Ray González (no relation), "a name not unfamiliar to those of us with a vested interest in Chicano/Latino literature."

By the early 1990s, Ray González, an El Paso native, was building "a solid reputation" as an editor and also offered "knowledge and expertise of the literary field (that) set a strong foundation at the University of Arizona Press for marketing and publicizing future titles with Camino del Sol." He now is an award-winning essayist, poet, editor and English professor at the University of Minnesota.

Rigoberto González, a New York book critic, poet and author, is a regular contributor to the El Paso Times books page. I recently interviewed him about the new anthology. I wondered what role he believed the Camino del Sol series played in Chicano and Latino literature.

"Whether the University of Arizona Press was aware of this or not, by championing this literary series devoted exclusively to publishing Chicano/Latino authors for the past 16 years, the press has been keeping a cultural record of Chicano/Latino literature in the new millennium," he said.

"Thankfully, the series has always kept its doors open to new voices, fomenting an incredible community of artists that will sustain a dynamic and energetic list of talent as the press moves into the next decade."

One is struck by the great diversity of voices included in the collection. There's the wry humor of the late poet Rane Arroyo, the wonderfully strange and sexy fiction of Kathleen de Azevedo, and Ray González's sublime ruminations on borderland identity and politics. Well-established writers sit side by side with those at the beginning of their careers.

"I think readers will be pleasantly surprised to recognize how aesthetically, politically and culturally diverse Chicano/Latino literature is," Rigoberto González said. "There is no 'one way' to shape identity or express it, no 'one way' to write as a Chicano/Latino writer in terms of language, subject matter or sensibility."

But does this diversity of voices threaten to split writers (and their readers) into separate and insular literary camps? Rigoberto González doesn't see such diversity as a threat. In fact, he views it as "a strength, accepting and encouraging our artistic differences, because it will help us come together and move forward in solidarity, especially during these hostile times.

"Chicano/Latino writers are important, and what we have to say matters."

In summing up, Rigoberto González did not mince words: "Camino del Sol, the series and the anthology, is not simply a venue for art, it is a venue for life -- our lives."

Camino del Sol: Fifteen Years of Latino and Latina Writing is a literary milestone that not only honors past literary triumphs, but also serves as a harbinger of great writing to come. It is an essential volume for any lover of Chicano and Latino literature.

[This review first appeared in the El Paso Times.]

El Violin: A Movie for the Masses

Olga García Echeverría

It was the 4th of July weekend and the constant fireworks exploding in the streets of Lincoln Heights could have easily been a movie downer. We're talking real barrio quetes with the occassional crazy balazo. Did I mention the poor howling perros? My girlfriend's tiny TV may have also ruined the film, but neither the cherry bombs nor the limited-sized screen had much of an effect on my viewing of Francisco Vargas' El Violin. That's because Vargas' 2005 Mexican film is more explosive than an M-80.

From its disturbing opening scene of torture to the unpredicatable narrative that unfolds, El Violin hooks the viewer. The film highlights the tension between marginalized campesinos and the government. Although the diction is clearly Mexican, the setting is never revealed, and the story could very well take place in Guatemala, Colombia, or Bolivia.

A true star in the film is Angel Tavira, the 81-year-old man who played Don Plutarco Hidalgo, a humble, rural musician who uses his violin as both an instrument of peace and a weapon for survival. In 2006, Tavira received the Best Actor Award at the renowned Cannes International Film Festival for his leading role in El Violin. I find it a bit ironic that fireworks were blasting in the backdrop as I watched Tavira fiddle his violin with one hand. The first-time actor was a real-life musician who actually lost his right hand to an exploding firecracker when he was 13. ¡Pinche quetes!


Other actors in the movie are Mario Garibali who plays Plutarco's grandson, Gerardo Taracena (Apocalypto 2006) who plays Don Plutarco's son and Dagoberto Gama (Amores Perros 2000) who plays El Capitán. These lead actors create an incredible cast of characters that challenge our sensibilities and keep us at the edge of our seats.

El Violin is definitely a political film, yet it successfully avoids being didactic. Instead the film speaks through its characters, their struggles, and through many scenes that don't even need dialogue. Beautifully shot in black and white, there is also something very romantic and classic about the film. This is the best of film--pure, honest, raw, and so perfectly executed that it doesn't feel like fiction at all.

I can say much more about Francisco Vargas' film, but I don't want to spoil the plot. Instead I'd like to invite you all to come out and see a special screening of El Violin in Koreatown. It's all for a great cause--to help those devasted from the tropical storm in Guatemala.

Remember this?

Luis Echeverria/May 31st/Photo released by Guatemala's Presidency

In May of this year, a tropical storm named Agatha hit Central America and devasted Guatemala. Aside from killing and disappearing hundreds of people, it displaced an estimated 74,000 people. In Guatemala City, the earth caved in, swallowing a 3-story building and creating a surreal sink hole that is about 60 feet wide and 30 feet deep.

Here in Los Angeles, a dedicated group of individuals, organizers, and community leaders wasted no time in responding to the Guatemalan emergency. They formed El Comité Los Angeles de Guatemala and held a series of fundraisers to collect much needed items, such as clothing, shoes, blankets, canned foods, etc. The group also raised money to buy grains, such as beans and rice. They have also raised enough funds to send one of their representatives to Guatemala to assure the aid reaches the right hands.

Originally, the group was generously offered free shipping; however, at the last minute, this was not possible. The group now has to pay an additional $400.00 to transport the aid to Guatemala. In an effort to raise the needed money ASAP, El Comité Los Angeles de Guatemala is having one final fundraiser, the screening of El Violin. Here are all the details:

Trailer Teaser From the Official Website: http://www.elviolinthemovie.com/home_flash.html#trailer

Tuesday July 20th at 6:30 PM.

(Movie is 98 minutes long)

$10.00 Suggested Donation

KIWA's Cultural Educational Center

3471 S. 8th Street

Los Angeles CA 90005

Popcorn & Wine!

Rebecca Ronquillo of El Comité Los Angeles de Guatemala says, "We've worked very hard to accomplish this mission and getting the supplies to Guatemala is our last challenge. We're asking people to come out and help us finalize this collective effort to get these supplies to the Guatemalan people. Our movie night is a great opportunity to see a great foreign film. Great movie. Popcorn. Wine. Community. All for a good cause just for $10.00. You can't go wrong with that."

*If you can't make it to the screening, please consider making a contribution to this important and timely cause. Contact Rebecca Ronquillo at becky@kiwa.org or at 213.738.9050

________________________________________________________________

Do These Shoes Make Me Look Illegal?

Come Join us for a Night of Creative Resistance:

Poetry, Photos of Arizona's National Day of Action, Music, Raffle & Other Ghetto Goodies

UCLA Labor Center

675 S. Park View

LA CA 90057-3306

Saturday, July 17th, 2010 from 7-9 PM

$5.00 dollar suggested donation

Several poets/artists will be hositing a fundraiser for Sergio Hernandez, the 15-year-old boy who was shot and killed at the El Paso-Juarez border by an ICE agent. All proceeds go to his family. To learn more about the event or the participating artist:

http://labloga.blogspot.com/2010/07/do-these-shoes-make-me-look-illegal.html

Bandas, Arizona, vampiros & René's apellido

Música, tirando chancla, Denver style

As Ramos mentioned yesterday: "I'll see some of you at Part 2 of the Colorado All-Star New Mexico and Tejano Music Festival at Denver's Edelweiss Club, featuring Next In Line of Commerce City, Richard Baca & Sierra Gold from Pueblo, and The Rick Garcia Band."

My wife Carmen and I did see him, and his wife Flo there and the vato wasn't kidding--it was a kick-ass baile. We left at 11:00 before the third band, but my legs were already worn out from trying to keep up with the hot sounds, anyway. Next up will be The King of New Mexico Music, TOBIAS RENE. Tickets available at EDELWEISS CLUB, 6495 Monaco, Commerce City Colo. and RICK'S TAVERN, 6762 Lowell Boulevard, Denver, 303-427-3427

Ramos also mentioned, "I may bump into some of you at the driveway party Saturday night." I'm probably going, but need some help. Anybody know where I can get some permanent marker chalk to christen that new driveway?

Alarcón (& La Bloga) strike deep in the Ariz. heartland

Mari Herreras of the Tucson Weekly ran an interview this week of Francisco X. Alarcón:
"Moved by student protests in Phoenix against SB 1070, Alarcón created a Facebook page called Poets Responding to SB 1070. Many of the poems from the page have been republished on La Bloga at labloga.blogspot.com.

In the interview, Alarcón explains: "Michael Sedano from Los Angeles is an editor of La Bloga, a blog for Latino/Chicano artists, poets and writers. The past eight weeks, we started to select poems, and every Tuesday, five to seven poems are selected and posted on La Bloga. Now we're hitting a critical mass of poets, so we want to do a hard copy. The University of California Press has expressed an interest, but I haven't presented them with a proposal ... but we've come to a decision that this is the next step."

Any billionaire out there want to underwrite free copies for anybody with an Ariz. driver's license--regardless of what kind of shoes they're wearing?

Vampiro comic Issue #2

Saturday, July 17, 7:00pm – Authors Mario Acevedo and Jeanne Stein will be the featured speakers at the monthly meeting of the Denver Area Science Fiction Association. Mario will sign Killing the Cobra #2, his latest comic book featuring Felix Gomez, the vampire P.I. hero of Mario’s novels. Broadway Book Mall, 200 S. Broadway (one block north of Alameda), in Denver; 303-744-BOOK (2665).

René's last name not culturally sacred aquí

Regular La Bloga readers know about René Colato Laínez's book René has two last names/René tiene dos apellidos. One would think that in this age of reputed "border security" and with all the anti-immigrant propaganda, keeping accurate track of the Spanish surnamed would be mandated. Not so.

For instance, at my last public school--when I still had a job--I noticed that this year my new list of students, 23 in all, ALL had their two last names hyphenated. In fact, there is not ONE method to putting names on birth certificates. Sometimes it will read: "René Colato Laínez", without a hyphen, while another kid's may read " René Colato-Laínez", with a hyphen. When I brought this to the attention of the powers-that-be, I was told not to worry about it, that it was no big deal. Given that I knew my own job was already in jeopardy at the time, I took the muy huevón approach and kept my mouth shut. I still regret that, no matter that it didn't help keep my job.

Whatever the thinking of Denver schools' administration, blankedly hyphenating all the Spanish-surnamed not only shows cultural ignorance and insensitivity, it's probably illegal, since hyphenating a name that isn't so on a birth certificate is probably considered a legalistic no-no.

What the practice reveals is the contradiction within not only the school systems, but the country as a whole. Cultural hegemony hyphenates all the Spanish surnames in one school, on the one hand; but on the other hand, political anti-immigrant hysteria demands accurate tracking of the same Spanish-surnamed.

The result will be a lot of Spanish-surnamed lost in the system. I don't mind this. I laugh thinking how one day the system will find out it can't find Colato Laínez because some school system hyphenated his name along with all the others in his school. And who's next? How about, President Barack Hussein–Obama?

Es todo, hoy
RudyG

Fight SB1070 With Music; Poets; Su Teatro Summer

Ry Cooder Donates Proceeds to MALDEF from Sale of “Quicksand” Created in Response to SB 1070

LOS ANGELES, CA – Ry Cooder created his new single Quicksand in response to anti-immigrant law SB 1070 and the ongoing Arizona immigration battle. SB 1070 requires police to demand "papers' from people they stop who they suspect are "unlawfully present" in the U.S. As described by Cooder, Quicksand is a slow-burning rocker that tells the story of six would-be immigrants making their way from Mexico to the Arizona border. Ry Cooder's Quicksand went on sale exclusively on iTunes, and Cooder has pledged to donate all proceeds from the song to MALDEF.

Thomas A. Saenz, MALDEF President and General Counsel, stated that Defeating Arizona's SB 1070 - and the potential copycat laws that have since been announced by unscrupulous legislators around the nation - will require a broad national community effort to reinforce the constitutional principles and values that characterize our nation. Our heartfelt thanks to Ry Cooder for being a leader in that necessary community effort.

Cooder produced the 1996 album Buena Vista Social Club, followed by solo projects with Ibrahim Ferrer and Manuel Galban, of Los Zafiros. Quicksand features Cooder's son Joachim on drums, with backup vocals by Lucina Rodgriguez and Fabiola Trujillo of the Mexican roots band Los Cenzontles. The artwork for the single features the piece Nuthin' To See Here, Keep On Movin'! by frequent collaborator Vincent Valdez.

The Devil’s Highway has been used by migrants traveling on foot for over 100 years, says Cooder of the journey depicted in the song. You should try it sometime. Out there, temperatures can get above 130 degrees. If you fall down, you have religious hallucinations, then you die, cooking from the inside out. If you get lucky, you might make it to Yuma, but then what?

You can find a link to Ry Cooder’s page featuring “Quicksand” here.

To show your support for Ry Cooder and MALDEF, visit the iTunes store to purchase Ry Cooder’s Quicksand here.

Founded in 1968, MALDEF is the nation’s leading Latino legal civil rights organization. Often described as the law firm of the Latino community, MALDEF promotes social change through advocacy, communications, community education, and litigation in the areas of education, employment, immigrant rights, and political access. For more information on MALDEF, please visit: www.maldef.org.

Demetria Martinez and Martín Espada Read at National Hispanic Cultural Center

July 10, Wells Fargo Auditorium, NHCC, Albuquerque, 7:30 PM, free.

Click on the image for a better view of the details.

Su Teatro Celebrates Summer

Su Teatro celebrates summer with several cool events including Guillermo Gómez Peña, La Carpa de los Rasquachis, events in collaboration with the Biennial of the Americas, and a production of the Shadow Theater play The Life and Times of Ol' Alfred. And don't forget the annual Chicano Music Festival. Check out all the happenings at Su Teatro's web page.

Tony Garcia, Su Teatro's Executive Artistic Director, sends along this message about his search for a couple of Chicano blues bands to showcase at the Festival.

Do You Chicanos Sing the Blues?

In the tradition of the great Randy Garibay and Dr. Loco, Su Teatro is looking for Chicano bands that can sing the blues. What is Chicano blues? Well, this is the beginning of our conversation.

Corridos are the blues. Boleros are the blues. Barbacoa Blues is Chicano blues. There are songs and there are fragments. The sax middle of Angel Baby is Chicano blues (not the entire song but that section absolutely is) or Chicanos singing Jr. Walker's What Does it Take?

What is not Chicano blues? Anybody playing Brick House. Anyone playing disco. Funk is not blues; the blues are raw. I am looking for hot, painful vocals and bending guitar notes all from a Chicano perspective. If this is you, let me know. I will be bringing two bands together for the August 6 Chicano Blues night at the Chicano Music Festival. I won't be paying much, but as Gil Scott-Heron says, "there is the I ain't got me no money and I ain't got me no woman blues, which is the double blues." We are offering the maybe "I get me a little money blues." email me your ideas and let me know.

TONY GARCIA
EXECUTIVE ARTISTIC DIRECTOR
tony@suteatro.org

_________________

Speaking of musica - I'll see some of you at Part 2 of the Colorado All-Star New Mexico and Tejano Music Festival at the Edelweiss Club, featuring Next In Line of Commerce City, Richard Baca & Sierra Gold from Pueblo, and The Rick Garcia Band. That's tonight - hope you don't miss it; Part 1 was a blast (here's a link.) And then, I may bump into some of you at the driveway party Saturday night. Sounds like a great weekend.

Later.