The conversation expands...

It’s Also About Politics

by Darrel Alejandro Holnes

In considering Eduardo C. Corral’s statements in a recent interview on the Ploughshares website where he states, “The queer poetry community in New York City is full of beautiful people, which makes me an outsider. I’m not beautiful. I’m overweight. I’m unfashionable. I live in the wrong neighborhood.” I think about growing up in Panama and search my mind for images of queer America. I find the majority of images exported to my country were gay, male, white, fit, and upper middle class: Queer as Folk, Will & Grace, Queer Eye for the Straight Guy (with the exception of one Latino co-host), and the list goes on and on when I consider movies, and other media in the 90s – remember, not everything was exported, so though there may be exceptions, they likely didn’t represent out-queer America worldwide. And it isn’t much better the further you look back, the 80s, 70s, 60s.

Corral’s feelings of exclusion reflect the exclusion of alternative queer voices in mainstream American media. Sure, the world of mass media is much, much larger than the microcosm of a queer literary community in New York City, but his feelings echo issues from across various micro-communities within American Queerdom; issues of racial, class, gender, age, and weight discrimination disguised by the word “beauty”.

We could ask what was first, the chicken or the egg? Misrepresentation in the media or prejudice within this already marginalized community? But despite wherever the blame might fall, the reality is not erased. I won’t use this space to argue either side, or to talk about discrimination in our community being rooted in patriarchy, racialized ideals of beauty, the performance of identity shaped by an American obsession with material culture, self-hating homophobia, misogyny, white privilege, imported legacies of post-colonialism brought (back) to us by globalization, or other theories…

Instead, I’ll use this space to ask - are you aware of realities like Corral’s within the queer community? If you are aware, in what ways are your actions considerate of this reality? If not, reflect on how your own actions may have continually perpetuated this divide. A divide we allow perhaps because we believe it when the media says the divide is “normal.” If we want to elevate the discourse on this subject we have to elevate its consciousness.

“So many of them value looks over talent. The cool kids form clubs, become gatekeepers. So many of my peers are clamoring to be let in. […] I believe in community, but I’m hesitant to reach out to some of my peers because I’ve already been spurned by a few. One young man told me, “You don’t look like the rest of us.”

Corral’s words encourage me more to act - to make sure my brothers, sisters, and other members like him always feel included in the work I do - than to criticize, defend, or discuss Alex Dimitrov and his Wilde Boys literary salon, as has been done by Jameson Fitzpatrick on the Lambda Literary blog and by others.

Not to say Wilde Boys is above criticism. Perhaps some critics are right to challenge Dimitrov to make Wilde Boys more than it is, to perhaps make it into the queer literary epicenter of New York City that the hype (though sometimes disparagingly so – NY Times) presents it as being, and for that epicenter to be more inclusive; for Wilde Boys to achieve its maximum potential. Perhaps he ought to rise to that challenge – despite how he feels WB might have already welcomed more diversity.  Or perhaps it is what it is, a private literary salon, worthwhile for its members (and full disclosure, yes, I’ve been in that room) but unworthy of all this public attention.

But all “perhaps” aside, the fact is that regardless of what Dimitrov does or does not do, we each as individuals have a responsibility to be more inclusive and to expand our understanding of what it means to be “queer”; to be more empathetic to the legacy of the community’s complex past, one where barriers have been simultaneously broken down and built up; to develop a stronger community than ever before.

Let’s not pretend that for a minute this discussion is solely about poetry – not Corral’s, or Dimitrov’s, or Sexton’s - nor should it be. This is also about politics within the queer literary poetry community. The moment we enter the illusion that it’s about anything other than politics we are missing out on the greatest lesson:

The more aware we are of our community’s own politics and history, the more responsibly we can build a better future – and the stronger and more dynamic our community the more vigorously it will thrive.

A strong community can conquer any obstacle – as trite as that might sound, it’s true. And ultimately, I’ll give them all the benefit of the doubt and say, perhaps that’s just what Dimitrov, Corral, Fitzpatrick, and others hoped to foster with this dialogue, strong community via their various statements, posts, projects, and yes, perhaps even via their poetry. And we ought to try even harder in our every day lives to make sure we all stand together - queers and allies alike.

I started this piece talking about mass media because having grown up without a proper variety of queer role models I strive to make sure my life doesn’t imitate art. Let’s not be like those writers, casting directors, and TV execs that pigeonholed actors and televised stereotypes when we were growing up, (nor like those who still do this today). Let’s not be poetry “gatekeepers” who keep people out and call what remains “beautiful”. Open the gates and right those wrongs by building a more diverse community and engaging our community with a deeper awareness of its history. Now that would be beautiful.


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Darrel Alejandro Holnes is a poet and playwright. He is the recipient of scholarships to Cave Canem, and the Bread Loaf Writers' Conference, various awards, writing fellowships, and writer's residencies. He and his work have appeared in the Kennedy Center College Theater Festival, TIME Magazine, Callaloo, the Caribbean Writer, on the Best American Poetry blog as one of the Phantastique 5, and elsewhere. He is currently the Program Director of the Poetry Society of America, where he collaborates with Letras Latinas on Latino/a Poetry Now.

Latin@ Featured Poets: 4 interviews

Emma Trelles and Blas Falconer @ The Best American Poetry blog

Poet and editor of The Other Latin @: Writing Against a Singular Identity (University of Arizona Press, 2012), Blas Falconer, is currently featured over at The Best American Poetry blog in an interview by the winner of the fourth edition of the Andrés Montoya Poetry Prize, Emma Trelles. In The Other Latin@, editors Lorraine M. López and Blas Falconer bring together a collection of 20 essays that seek to answer the following question: “How can we treat U.S. Latina and Latino literature as a definable whole while acknowledging the many shifting identities within their cultures?” And this interview by Emma is a great starting point of discussion. Speaking of the inspiration behind this project, and of the role played by mentorship in understanding identity Blas Falconer states:

“When I started reading Rane Arroyo and Judith Ortiz Cofer, I thought, ‘Oh these writers are like me in some way.’ But they were able to find their own voices and incorporate their cultural influences. They were doing what I wanted to do, and I saw them as legitimate Latino writers. It was a way in for me. I realized I am also a part of this community. In that sense I saw them as models.

When my first book came out, I felt an incredibly nurturing response from the Latino community that I had never expected. Even today, five years after my first book was published, I still feel welcome and there's no question I'm part of this community. It made me feel as if my own experience was legitimate, and it's resolved this kind of conflict of estrangement I've had. I’m grateful to the Latino community for embracing diversity within itself.”

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Aracelis Girmay @ The Brooklyn Rail

Latino/a Poetry Now featured poet and National Book Critics Circle Award finalist, Aracelis Girmay, is currently featured at the Brooklyn Rail in an interview by Melinda Cardozo. When I first read Teeth (Curbstone Press, 2007), Aracelis’ debut collection of poems, one of the things I loved about this book was the smilingly simple way in which Aracelis turned language and objects—the letter “B,” a watermelon, a pilon—and rendered these shapes, through the use of the metaphor, into sometimes surprising, sometimes sad, but always compelling new narratives and images. Here are some favorite lines:

From “Ode to the Letter B:”

“Half butterfly, two teeth,/sideways: a bird meet[ing] the horizon.”

From “Ode to the Watermelon:”

“& in Palestine,/ where it is a crime to wave/ the flag of Palestine in Palestine,/ watermelon halves are/ raised/ against Israeli troops/ for the red, black, white, green/ of Palestine. Forever,”

From “Ode to the Litte r (From Kingdom Animalia):”

“Little propeller/ working between/ the two fields of my a’s,/ making my name/ a small boat/ that leaves the port/of old San Juan”

From the aforementioned interview:

“I was in Eritrea a couple of years ago and the language, or one of the languages of Eritrea, is Tigrinya. I don’t speak very much Tigrinya—only things that have to do with food. The alphabet is totally different, and I found myself really interested in trying to find clues in the language in terms of hearing the language—trying to understand any piece of the language that I could, and then looking at the shapes of the alphabet and the letters and trying to read them in different ways. Obviously, I wasn’t reading them for comprehension in Tigrinya, but what could that shape be, or how might I find a story with whatever language I have in the shapes of things.”

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Barbara Jane Reyes interviews California Poet Laureate, Juan Felipe Herrera

Letras Latinas Oral History Project interviewee, Barbara Jane Reyes is currently featured over at Harriet in an interview she conducted with California Poet Laureate, Juan Felipe Herrera. Needless to say, Juan Felipe Herrera is the first Latin@ poet to be named Poet Laureate of my home state. Writing of their previous attempts to nominate Juan Felipe Herrera as Poet Laureate, Barbara Jane Reyes writes: “Indeed, a couple of years ago, during the Schwarzenegger administration, with a group of poets including Oscar Bermeo, Ching-In Chen, Javier O. Huerta, Craig Santos Perez, and Matthew Shenoda, we nominated Herrera for the position, so very wary of how our then-governor would read such unabashedly political poetry…” In these reactionary times, times of arrested books, Juan Felipe Herrera reminds us that in the midst of chaos ideas can still escape the prison-dungeon. His appointment as California Poet Laureate is more than symbolic assertion of our culture and of our poetry; it is a reminder that writing can be a consoling act of resistance that gives a kind of pleasure and gratification, that it is an assertion of the self where such an assertion is not permitted:

“This is the most political thing we can do – to be brave about our lives and be willing to step into a wider neighborhood of lives, to be part of the polity, the city. The questions of color, language, race and class have a lot to do with how we compound suffering in the lives of others based on distorted criteria. Poetry can breathe through these hard perceptions and conceptions of what is right, good, and meritorious, and just maybe provide a little more humanity to make things better, softer, freer, more equitable. Poetry is a potent anti-fear spray.”

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Daniel Olivas interviews Richard Blanco

Daniel Olivas of La Bloga discusses Richard Blanco’s newest collection of poetry, (University of Pittsburgh Press) particularly the three sections of the book which define this collection. Sections that Richard Blanco describes as “movements” and which serve to paint a picture of the events that have shaped the work of this poet born in the milieu of the Cuban Diaspora.  With these movements as a point of departure, Blanco discusses how his poems color the different dimensions of what it means to grow up the son of Cuban parents of the Diaspora, his identity as a gay man, his literary influences and habits and how his work as an engineer introduced him the world of writing:

“Oddly enough, engineering is largely responsible for me “getting into” poetry.  When I began my career as a consultant engineer, I had to work on a lot of permitting jobs, which meant a lot of writing letters back and forth between agencies explaining often abstract concepts and arguing my clients point of view—much like the sonnets which root back to legal pleas exchanged between lawyers.  Anyway, this got me paying really close attention to language, how it can be crafted, its nuances, etc.  In short, I fell in love with words.”

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Latino/a Art Now: 2013/Andrés Montoya Poetry Prize Initiative

A few weeks ago, I attended a planning session for the next Latino/a Art Now conference—slated for the the Fall of 2013 in Washington, D.C. What makes this one special is that it coincides with, and will be tied to, a special exhibition at the Smithsonian Museum of American Art: Our America: The Latino Presence in American Art. 

Latino/a Art Now is held every two years and the last one took place in Los Angeles, where “Untitled” by Malaquias Montoya was unveiled, which launched the Andrés Montoya Poetry Prize Initiative. Below is an alphabetized gallery of those poets and writers who have stepped to the plate, so far, and have had their picture taken with the print. The money will help underwrite the co-publication of colon-ization by Andrés Montoya, edited by Daniel Chacón, introduced by Sasha Pimentel-Chacón, forthcoming by Bilingual Press. Proceeds from the sale of this print will also help ensure the long-term sustainability of the Prize AND (this is new): help underwrite a one-day symposium on Andrés Montoya—upon the publication of the new book. Please consider becoming a part of this gallery:

Francisco X. Alarcón

Francisco Aragón

Fred and Charles Arroyo

Richard Blanco

Daniel Chacón

Sandra Cisneros

Silvia Curbelo

Blas Falconer

José B. González

Lorraine L. López

Manuel Paul López

Valerie Martínez

Paul Martínez Pompa

Benjamín Alire Saenz

John Phillip Santos

Emma Trelles

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not pictured:

Eduardo C. Corral, 

who acquired a print,

but who has not yet been photographed with it.

Ms. Gimenez Smith Goes to Washington

It’s been a busy two days for Carmen Giménez Smith. Yesterday, she spent a good chunk of her time at the national offices and studios of NPR. She attended the morning pitch meeting for All Things Considered as preparation for her assigned task: to write a poem that would somehow aim to weave in/engage some of the day’s top stories. The initiative, “NewsPoet,” is produced and edited by Ellen Silva, with whom we had the pleasure of dining last night near Dupont Circle. Carmen is the fifth poet tapped to write such a poem. She was preceded by Tracie K. Smith, Craig Morgan Teicher, Kevin Young, and Monica Youn. You can see and hear the results HERE.

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When Letras Latinas learned, a few weeks ago, that Carmen would be in town for her NPR gig, we decided to jumpstart an initiative that’s been in the discussion phase for some time now: recording U.S.-based, Letras Latinas-affiliated writers for the “Archive of Hispanic Literature on Tape.” The archive was “begun in 1943 by then assistant chief of the Hispanic Division Francisco Aguilera (1899 – 1979) to record on magnetic tape original voice recordings of selections of writings of contemporary poets and prose writers.” Learn more about this initiative here.

The Hispanic Division of the Library of Congress is headed by Georgette Dorn, who suggested, a few months back, with Letras Latinas' assistance, adding new writers to the archive. For this pilot gesture, Letras Latinas counted on the crucial direction and collaboration of  Catalina Gomez, who met Carmen and I this morning at the information desk of the Jefferson Building and escorted us to the recording studio. Once the sound technician got everything ready, Catalina introduced Carmen, who, after brief introductory remarks, read from her four published books (three poetry, one prose). Carmen's reading was also video recorded. Altogether, the session lasted nearly an hour.

Below is a photo gallery of our visit to the Library of Congress today.

Carmen and Catalina preparing to record.

Carmen Giménez Smith

View of the monitor in the lounge next door

 Carmen reading from her work.

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After the recording session, we were met by Rob Casper, the director of the LOC's Poetry and Literature Center, and his assistant Caitlin, who took us on a brief tour of the Poetry and Literature Center's office and reception lounge:

"Silhouette of Carmen with Views of the Washington Monument

and Capitol Dome," aka, "The View from the Poetry Room."

Quote of the Day (by Rob Casper).

"The offices of the Poetry and Literature Center are like poetry: 

nobody knows they're there;they are hard find; 

but once you arrive, the view is spectacular..."

Review Roundup: May 20, 2012

Steve Fellner of Pansy Poetics Reviews Rigoberto González’s “Our Deportees”

In this particular review, Steve Fellner reviews not a whole collection of poems but rather a single poem by Latino/a Poetry Now featured poet, Rigoberto González: “Our Deportees,” which appears in the March/ April issue of The American Poetry Review. It's a poem that is also the title of this Harriet blog-post by Rigoberto González in which he explores the genesis of this poem and the many years that passed before finally writing it. Inspired by a Dolly Parton cover of Woody Guthrie’s “Deportee (Plane Wreck at Los Gatos)” a song about a plane wreck and the anonymous deaths of the farm-workers in that wreck, Rigoberto sought to write about the “spaces they [“the deportees”] vacate, leave empty, and are forced to occupy or abandon–the fields, the deportation bus, the detention center, the plane, the sky, the communal grave.”

Here is what Fellner had to say:

“The eerie thing about Rigoberto Gonzalez's poem "Our Deportees" in the current March/April issue of The American Poetry Review is the names of particular immigrants are almost never invoked.  There's one brief stanza about a common burial that lists some in the most cursory manner.  But that's it.  This is a poem that boldly refuses to use narrative in the conventional sense; we aren't given particular plights of particular victims.  The United States' treatment of illegal immigrants needs more attention than a litany of faceless entities, according to Gonzalez's poem.  By surveying the entire world --from a single apple tree to the path of a red-tailed hawk to strange flowers "with no petals" --he effectively illustrates how the entire fabric of the world is harmed through the persecution of immigrants.  Through Gonzalez's trademark of jam-packing stanzas with a particular figurative device--in this case, most often personification--he succeeds in creating what may be the best poem I've read in the last couple months.  Let's hope it doesn't get overlooked when the inclusions for Best American Poetry and Pushcart Prize volumes are finalized.  Along with Jee Leong Koh, he was already robbed of a Lambda nomination.”

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Lonita Cook Reviews Xánath Caraza’s Chapbook Corazón Pintado (Thorny Locust Press).

Xánath Caraza’s newly released chapbook Corazón Pintado is a beautiful collection of ekphrastic poems. These are poems of a rich diversity, poems inspired by artworks by Israel Nazario and Tom Weso, poems to the Copalillo tree, and to Yanga, the 17^th century African-rebel who gave the Spanish a royal trashing and established the first free colony of the Americas, today know as San Lorenzo de los Negros in Veracruz, Mexico. Oh and did I mention that 20% of the sales of Corazón Pintado will go to a Summer Art Camp for Latin@/Chican@ children? Also be on the look-out for Conjuro: Poem, a forthcoming title from Mammoth Press to be released in September of this year, it will be Xánath’s first book-length collection.

Here is what Cook had to say:

“Teeming with musicality, flavor, and color, each poem, presented in Spanish and again in English, is the literary interpretation of visual art pieces by Isreal Nazario and Tom Weso, images featured in the book.

While interpreting the art, Caraza maintains her signature style rich in Latino mythology, folklore, and history, spanning a multi-generational divide.  The voices of the past must dictate over her shoulder, their tales preserved, not by pen, but by memory.”

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Zach Hudson of New Poetry Review Reviews Javier O. Huerta’s American Copia: An Immigrant Epic (Arte Publico Press, 2012)

“I am going to the grocery store.” That was the line poet Javier O. Huerta was asked to write during his citizenship interview process. That simple line, years later, would become American Copia, Huerta’s second collection of poems. Using a vignette form, a play, and even text messaging, Huerta weaves together a poetic narrative that breaks the illusion that we live in a land of bountiful substance. Here, a mere trip to the grocery store unveils the political, cultural and economic nuances that unveil an alternative and painful reality: that despite living in what is perhaps the richest period of human history, there still remain those who live a hand-to-mouth existence.

Here is what Hudson had to say:

“According to the preface, Huerta promised the aforementioned immigration official that he would write an epic starting with the line “Today, I’m going to the grocery store,” and this book sets out to do that.  Grocery shopping is a major theme, and through it Huerta explores issues of class, culture, family and literature.  The book as a whole cuts back and forth between “American Copia” episodes, in which he collects short prose anecdotes based on grocery shopping, giving brief asynchronous flashes of his life and relationships, jumping between time and place.  Huerta sees shopping and food as windows into all sorts of experiences and issues—family and relationships weave throughout the scattered narrative.  One episode describes how Marisol, a pregnant Yale student, steals a shopping cart to keep next to her apartment, just in case it is the only way to get to the hospital when she goes into labor.  This observation, both humorous and serious, highlights the juxtaposition seen throughout much of the work—privilege and poverty, the lyrical and the mundane.”

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Rigoberto González on Carlos Fuentes

Carlos Fuentes: A Remembrance

by Rigoberto González

One injustice at the news of this death is that he never received the Nobel nod like his two formidable contemporaries from la Generación del Boom, Gabriel García Márquez from Colombia, and Mario Vargas Llosa from Perú, the latter just two years ago. (México’s only Nobel laureate in literature is Octavio Paz, who received the award in 1990.) This oversight, however, doesn’t lessen Fuentes’s importance or even threaten his stature as a giant of letters. He was México’s greatest critic and ambassador.

The details of his other awards and recognitions, his literary and journalistic accomplishments, his role as a cultured and savvy observer of shifts and trends in global politics can be found in the many biographical portraits that mushroom in cyberspace as soon as a figure of such renown passes away. I’d like to offer instead a more personal account, a “What does Carlos Fuentes mean to me?”

I would be lying if I said I knew who he was when I met him. This was in 1988, when I was a freshman at UC-Riverside, and Fuentes was one of the distinguished speakers in the university’s lecture series. I was simply drawn to the event because of his name, Mexican-sounding like mine. What a surprise to discover that indeed he was Mexican, though in the dark suit and with a receding hairline he resembled a banker from my country. The evening proceeded with politeness and dignity, until he began to read from his newest project, the novel Christopher Unborn, and the passage that imagines the conception of a narrator who, in utero, wonders what kind of place he will be born into 500 years after Columbus first set foot on the New World.

When I finally read that book, a decade later, I recognized the indictments Fuentes was making about the corrupt, polluted “Make-sicko City.” But at the time I simply sat there mesmerized by how this middle-aged man had broken out of his banker shell. His forehead glistened, and the spittle leaping off his lips was made visible in the stage lights. He held a copy of the book in one hand and chopped the air with the other, accentuating his delivery of a lengthy, winding road of sentences. But the climax of the reading, what gave me pause, keeping me suspended on a sound for the rest of the night, was when he uttered the word, “nalgas.” Yes, “nalgas,” perhaps the most comic of words in the Spanish language, an appropriate visitor in a description of two people groping at each other’s bodies on a beach. I dared to smile and decided right then and there that I would have to meet this brave, funny man face to face because I knew what he was doing, disarming the crowd with his conservative look, only to turn around and startle all of us with a steamy sex scene, with “nalgas.” Wasn’t that always the best strategy? The Trojan horse approach: Get in there first and then cause a stir. If they see you coming they will simply lock the doors! I have lived by that lesson ever since.

I stood in line for about 45 minutes to get my books signed. I bought the cheapest ones, paperback editions of The Death of Artemio Cruz and The Old Gringo. When I finally had my chance in front of Mr. Fuentes, whatever I had rehearsed to say had flown right out of my head.

He appeared broken down, fatigued, but he smiled back anyway. I handed him one book and he asked in English, “Who is this for?” And I said it was for me, “Rigoberto.” I handed him the other book. “And this one?” he asked. “It’s for me also,” I said. He looked up at me and laughed, so I laughed with him, not understanding why that was so funny. I knew my time was up, but I went for it anyway and said to him before I was turned away, “Yo soy de Michoacán. Yo también voy a ser escritor.” He humored me and answered, quite gently, “Pues, suerte, muchacho. Nada más cuídate los dedos.” He raised his hands up to show me and I was stunned: he had crooked index fingers. Many years later, I would read how he continued to write on a typewriter, using only those two digits. Another lesson I would come to learn about being a writer: its physical toll.

I have another confession. I didn’t always keep up with Fuentes’s books, though it pleased me to no end whenever he commented on this or that, particularly about the United States. When the English-only movement caught fire in this country, Fuentes quipped: “Those poor Americans. They’re determined to be the only monolingual idiots of the twentieth century.” He called it as he saw it, and it didn’t matter who didn’t want to hear it because his was a voice with volume enough to crack the walls of pretense and false posture--on both sides of the border.

What does Carlos Fuentes mean to me? Fearlessness, determination, and an enviable work ethic. I am saddened by his passing, but the clarity of his vision, the ferocity of his words, will continue to keep us honest, but only if we don’t succumb to the deceptive rhetoric of those who call themselves leaders and then lead us straight into the poverty of surrender.

4 Poets on Community

Rigoberto González on Building Literary Communities

When I attended my first CantoMundo back in the summer of 2010, one of the most seminal moments of that experience was hearing Rigoberto González speak on the importance of community—not only of the importance of belonging to a literary community but also of being an active participant in building and enhancing the visibility of that community. Back when issue 1 of Latino Poetry Now was released the Editor’s Note read: “other than the El Paso Times, one would be hard pressed to name a newspaper that runs, with any regularity, reviews of poetry collections by Latinos (or any poets, for that matter).” 

Letras Latinas—through its review roundups, author interviews, book reviews and other pieces of literary criticism—is, as I see it, a response to that lack of literary criticism. And is one among many other bricklayers responsible for building and expanding this house for Latino/a Letters. Rigoberto González is of course another one of those pillars. A prolific poet and writer, Rigoberto leads by example, never forgetting that one of the tasks at hand is to increase the visibility of those who belong to our house, to our communities:

“Some writers may reject this path toward publication and mentorship, and that’s fine, just don’t expect any love back. These are already crowded houses anyway, and yet, there’s always a will to make room for one more. But only those who thrive within them know the importance of keeping an old tradition–of coming together in the spirit of shared experience–alive. It’s a very cold and expansive landscape out there, and communities like these, publishing series and retreats like these, make the journey into the professional and artistic world a little less daunting….”

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Barbara Jane Reyes on Community

In a similar vein as Rigoberto González, Barbara Jane Reyes—who beside being the author of Diwata (BOA Editions, Ltd., 2010), and recently noted finalist for the California Book Award, Barbara Jane Reyes is also a featured interviewee for Letras Latinas’ Oral History Project, a major effort to document and preserve the history of Latino/a arts and culture. In this Oral History Project interview, Barbara Jane Reyes speaks of the importance of diversifying the ways by which poet’s subvert literary forms and art disciplines and also speaks of her usage of the page, punctuation and language(s) in her own work. Like Rigoberto, Barbara too is concerned with the importance of building and maintaining a literary community:

“As for me, I think of myself as also plugging away at the work. One manuscript at a time. One or two teaching gigs at a time. One commissioned writing gig at a time. One curated event at a time. One reading or performance or classroom visit at a time. With room to breathe, and to express gratitude.

Onward.”

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Craig Santos Perez, “Letters to the Empire”

I absolutely love what Craig Santos Perez is doing with his “Letters to the Empire:” “Beginning last November, I’ve experimented with writing political prose poems and submitting them as “Letters to the Editor” to one of the two major newspapers in Guåhan: The Marianas Variety (Marianas is the colonial name of the archipelago of which Guåhan is a part).” In one of these prose poems, titled “All our generations,” Perez writes: “Our language is worth saving. When Guåhan's greatest generation dies, they will be buried in the land, within Puntan's body. Sadly, thousands of acres of land were stolen from that generation by the U.S. military.” What I particularly admire about these prose poems and the concept of these “letters to the empire’ is that they seek out to engage a public and build a community beyond the space of the “page/book.” And while the political effectiveness of these poems which seek to speak out against the continued colonization and militarization of Guåhan is one that ultimately cannot be measured, these poems do reminds us of the possibility of the written word to engage and build communities that exist beyond the traditional literary circles and spaces and whose energies are often underestimated and untapped.

Here is what Craig Santos Perez has to say:

“In many ways, I also see these prose poems as “Letters to the Empire,” since The Marianas Variety, and the other island newspaper, The Pacific Daily News, are both edited by White-American settlers. Both papers have a long and proud tradition of supporting the continued colonization and militarization of Guåhan. While I know I don’t have to convince the readers of this blog about the power of the media to shape public opinion, you can imagine that this power is more pronounced on a small, colonized island where the media becomes an important colonizing agent.”

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Diana Marie Delgado @ Pom-Pom Rituals/ Tiny Umbrellas

Letras Latinas Blog has recently had the pleasure of welcoming yet another contributor to its roster, to its community of bloggeros: Diana Marie Delgado. Regular contributors have included winner of the 4^th edition of the Andrés Montoya Poetry Prize, Emma Trelles and finalist for the 2012 Andrés Montoya Poetry Prize, Oscar Bermeo. Poet and playwright, Diana Marie Delgado, is the recipient of the 2010 Letras Latinas Residency Fellowship, she was awarded a month-long stay at the Anderson Center in Red Wing, Minnesota. Her poetry collection, Late-Night Talks with Men I Think I Trust, was a finalist for the 2012 Andrés Montoya Poetry Prize, and her short play, Desire Road, will be given a public reading in the Summer 2012. She is a member of the CantoMundo and Macondo writing communities. She recently reviewed Steady, My Gaze (Tebot Bach, 2010) and which was featured in this blog post.  She blogs regularly at Pom-Pom Rituals/ Tiny Umbrellas.