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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)

Tagolla, Delgado, Paredez at Bryant Park, NYC

June 12, 2011

http://latinopoetryreview.blogspot.com/2011/06/cantomundo-poet-diana-marie-delgado.html

CANTOMUNDO POET DIANA MARIE DELGADO READING WITH CARMEN TAFOLLA AND DEBORAH PAREDEZ AT BRYANT PARK

CantoMundo Poet Diana Marie Delgado will join fellow CantoMundo poets Carmen Tafolla and Deborah Paredez on June 14th at 7 p.m. for the Word for Word Poetry Series at Bryant Park. Please come out if you are in NYC!
Diana Marie Delgado is an accomplished Chicana poet, creative writing teacher, and community activist. She has published poetry in over 20 major literary magazines and online journals, and has taught poetry to at-risk youth and disadvantaged adults across the United States. She has held positions as an Associate Editor in a NYC publishing house and was the Assistant Director of Correspondence at the William J. Clinton Foundation prior to her current position as a Family Literacy Coordinator with the Coalition for Hispanic Family Services. Her most recent awards were a month-long writing residency at the Anderson Center in Minnesota and a scholarship to participate in Monarch Theater’s Intensive Playwriting Workshops with Migdalia Cruz and John Jesurun. She is a member of the Con Tinta and Macondista writing community, and a graduate of the Creative Writing program at Columbia University.

To Frida Kahlo by Marco A. Domínguez

May 4, 2011

I.

I notice skylines no one speaks of

in your paintings, and the clouds

behind you slaughtered in blues

and blacks, because the sun gushes

nowhere in your landscapes;

because your floral dresses hold

a tension more than rain clouds;

because your brow slows me

to your eyes.  I see the weight

of spider monkeys perched

inside your portraits, sunflower roots

constricting you to earth, and blood

no one struggles to look away from;

blood on the horizon of your dress

spilling past the catheter at your knees.

  Read more…

Railroad Face by Ray Gonzalez

April 19, 2011
Source: Poetry Foundation

I sit with my railroad face and ask God to forgive me

for being a straight line toward the dead
who were buried with their poor clothes
in the Arizona desert of iron borders.

This way of waving to the embers of the past,
not apologzing for carrying torn rosaries inside
my pockets where beads of worry became fossilized
insects whose dry husks I kept since a child.

Faces adopted me from boys who hated their parents.
I was told not to repeat this,
reminded by the priest who unmasked himself.
I was told there was a great horror down
the hallway of the smelly Catholic school.
Once, my friend Joey jumped off the second floor window
and flattened his brains over the asphalt yard.

I see a hibiscus blossom.
It is a bright yellow flower that lasts one day.
Its shape brings tears, saves me from the hummingbird
that dots the air with patterns resembling an alphabet
too familiar to smell like a railroad worker.

I love heaven when I admit the spikes
and the railroad ties came from
the labor of fate and not the labor of love.
The tracks are my cross.

The tiny car is full of sweating men.
They look into the eye of the sun,
hold their hammers over their blackened heads.
If staring grows in the common search,
a perfume dots the heart with greed.
Silence between the lightning of pounding stakes.

Once, I rode the train home
to see if the smoke from the speeding engine
was going to enter my lungs.
I never wore the old, yellow hat of the crew,
but returned the shovel and the bag of railroad spikes,
thought I saw my grandfather, the foreman, running
across the desert in overalls, changing his skin
from brown to the black of the scorched engine.

I live with my railroad face, its smoothness hammered
by sweating crews that knew the line of hot iron
was going to end in the west someday.
I live with my railroad face and don’t know why
the tracks disappear on the horizon.
I cross my railroad face and comb my hair.

Ray Gonzalez, “Railroad Face” from Consideration of the Guitar: New and Selected Poems. Copyright © 2005 by Ray Gonzalez.  Reprinted by permission of BOA Editions, Ltd.

Source: Consideration of the Guitar: New and Selected Poems (BOA Editions, Ltd., 2005)

Tejano Conjunto Festival en San Antonio 2011

March 24, 2011

30th Annual Tejano Conjunto Festival en San Antonio 2011

Camaradas de Conjunto: Tuesday, March 15, at a press conference the Guadalupe Cultural Arts Center officially unveiled the winning poster for the 30th Annual Tejano Conjunto Festival en San Antonio 2011. The winners of this year’s TCF Poster Contest were Al Rendon (photographer) and Robert Herzick (graphic designer) who collaborated on this year’s winning design. Pictured in the poster with accordion is Narciso Martinez. This picture was taken by Al Rendon at the 10th Annual Tejano Conjunto Festival at Rosedale Park. Narciso Martinez was warming up prior to his performance at the festival. This is one of those rare photographs that captured “Chicho” smiling.

The complete musical line-up for the 30th Annual Tejano Conjunto Festival en San Antonio 2011, plus passes and ticket information is now available at www.guadalupeculturalarts.org Scroll down and click on Tejano Conjunto Festival. Spread the word y como siempre, gracias por su apoyo. Juan

La historia de los ángeles by Victor David Sandiego

March 13, 2011

It goes:

We are made of reeds and pull
the air into our lungs through them; we descend
from a long line of lamps with wicks and oil
that, from the alcoves,
illuminate the corridors between worlds.

Our habitat is filled:

with rivers, meadows, mountains, horses, antelope, and trees.
Juniper child on his knees guards a beetle in the dust.
Grandmother plants flowers and mud
crawls over our days…

Read in its entirety at Cerise Press