Your daily dose of Chicano poetry
"I write poems on walls that crumble and fall
I talk to shadows that sleep and go away crying.”
Luis Omar Salinas (1937–2008)
Doing Away With Absence
Drawn each to each
in some arrangement of ourselves
we are lifted
away from twilight,
and elsewhere
we are going hand in hand by a river,
naming the strength of all things flowing.
As we advance, unhurried,
telling each other our best truths,
a moon sweeps out
serenely for miles around.
To you, and through us,
love is kind.
Tino Villanueva
This poem was taken from Shaking off the Dark published by Arte Publico Press.
“Poet and writer Tino Villanueva was born in San Marcos, Texas in 1941. In the early 1970s, he began publishing his poems and he became part of what has been called The Chicano Literary Renaissance. His work highlights the tension as well as the richness of living within two different cultures. He writes in both English and Spanish, often switching between the two languages. In 1972, he published his first collection of poems, Hay Otra Voz Poems (There Is Another Voice Poems). That year he also wrote Chicano Is an Act of Defiance.” Read the rest of this biographical note of Villanueva at the Southwestern Writers Collection website.
Follow this link to hear the poet read The Slow Weight of Time.
Salinas Is On His Way
Go, friends, quickly to your tasks and wives.
This night I have to discover the clouds–
talk to the galaxies.
My parents are old
and the road is a serpent full of ambitions.
And what remains of me after sleep
is sunlight entering
like a nun into church.
After dreams get through with me
I shall devour books, sing arias,
walk on snow,
have arguments with darkness,
and crawl into the corner of the sea
listening to the tingle of bells.
What remains of me after sleep
may be a corpse.
So send out word:
Salinas is on his way–
quoting verses from the Bible,
making a mad dash through the night,
making sure everything is secure.
Luis Omar Salinas
Poet Jose Montoya wrote, “…no one has ever disputed the fact that Luis Omar Salinas es el mero chingon de la poesia chicana. This has been not only the opinion of his fellow poets but of critics as well…He’s our Guru.”
Let’s Begin The Day
“The day has just begun, put on your coat.”
–Cesar Vallejo
If I can’t be a saint
I’ll be a mirror in your room
where you can see yourself.
I’ll be a man on the street
selling chrysanthemums to passersby.
Come to me,
for if I can’t be saint
the music will start again
and I’ll be suffering badly.
Let me touch you
for I feel blind.
Let me cover your face with kisses
for it is necessary to begin the day
with enthusiasm and the bravado
of the bullfighter.
There is nothing wrong,
just the crazy boredom
which follows us into the night
like a sad creature from the sea.
Luis Omar Salinas
Poet Jose Montoya wrote, “…no one has ever disputed the fact that Luis Omar Salinas es el mero chingon de la poesia chicana. This has been not only the opinion of his fellow poets but of critics as well…He’s our Guru.”
Old Man
old man
with brown skin
talking of past
when being shephard
in utah, nevada, colorado and new mexico
was life lived freely;
old man,
grandfather,
wise with time
running rivulets on face,
deep, rich furrows,
each one a legacy,
deep, rich memories
of life . . .
“you are indio,
among other things,”
he would tell me
during nights spent
so long ago
amidst familial gatherings
in albuquerque . . .
old man, loved and respected,
he would speak sometimes
of pueblos,
san juan, santa clara,
and even santo domingo,
and his family, he would say,
came from there:
some of our blood was here,
he would say,
before the coming of coronado,
other of our blood
came with los españoles
and the mixture
was rich,
though often painful . . .
old man,
who knew earth
by its awesome aromas
and who felt
the heated sweetness
of chile verde
by his supple touch,
gone into dust is your body
with its stoic look and resolution,
but your reality, old man, lives on
in a mindsoul touched by you . . .
Old Man . . .
Dr. Ricardo Sánchez was a renowned Chicano poet, teacher, and activist. He wrote several books including 1971’s Canto y grito mi liberación. His works have been included in several anthologies in the U.S., Italy, France, Germany, and Mexico. He was inducted into the El Paso Writer’s Hall of Fame posthumously.
Jimmy Santiago Baca
Green Chile
I prefer red chile over my eggs and potatoes for breakfast.Red chile ristras decorate my door,
dry on my roof, and hang from eaves.
They lend open-air vegetable stands
historic grandeur, and gently swing
with an air of festive welcome.
I can hear them talking in the wind,
haggard, yellowing, crisp, rasping
tongues of old men, licking the breeze.
But grandmother loves green chile. When I visit her,
she holds the green chile pepper
in her wrinkled hands.
Ah, voluptuous, masculine,
an air of authority and youth simmers
from its swan-neck stem, tapering to a flowery
collar, fermenting resinous spice.
A well-dressed gentleman at the door
my grandmother takes sensuously in her hand,
rubbing its firm glossed sides,
caressing the oily rubbery serpent,
with mouth-watering fulfillment,
fondling its curves with gentle fingers.
Its bearing magnificent and taut
as flanks of a tiger in mid-leap,
she thrusts her blade into
and cuts it open, with lust
on her hot mouth, sweating over the stove,
bandana round her forehead,
mysterious passion on her face
as she serves me green chile con carne
between soft warm leaves of corn tortillas,
with beans and rice – her sacrifice
to her little prince.
I slurp from my plate
with last bit of tortilla, my mouth burns
and I hiss and drink a tall glass of cold water.
All over New Mexico, sunburned men and women drive rickety trucks stuffed with gunny-sacks of green chile, from Belen, Veguita, Willard, Estancia, San Antonia y Socorro, from fields to roadside stands, you see them roasting green chile in screen-sided homemade barrels, and for a dollar a bag, we relive this old, beautiful ritual again and again.
From Black Mesa Poems
Jimmy Santiago Baca has devoted his post-prison life to writing and teaching others who are overcoming hardship. His themes include American Southwest barrios, addiction, injustice, education, community, love and beyond. He has conducted hundreds of writing workshops in prisons, community centers, libraries, and universities throughout the country.
Xican@ Poetry Daily 