I am not an American
But I understand English.
– Joaquin Murietta
Still in the middle of Herencia: The Anthology of Hispanic Literature of the United States. Before I get sidetracked, a lil message to all my Latino poet friends—Buy this book. For everyone else—Buy this book.
It is far from a complete and perfect anthology but I don’t think such a thing may actually exist. For a while I thought that Aloud might be it but some ole skool Nuyoricans are not included in the collection. Why exactly they are excluded has been the source of much discourse and gossip (showing how closely related these two terms are) but the truth will probably not come put for quite a bit of time. And here I am, getting sidetracked.
I’m only halfway through so I don’t know if I can give it a proper review but I am digging the extended bios that the publisher has compiled for the authors as opposed to the normal we-are-going-to-make-believe-these-are-3rd-person-when-y’all-all-know-better versions. Just finished the Native Literature section of the volume which revolved a lot around the issues of Mexican-Americans bringing issues of racism to light with the key difference being that much of this comes from the late 19th century. Nothing new under the sun, indeed.
Nuth of dat. I leave you with a poem from Alurista and a smile. Latahz, y’all.
mis ojos hinchados
mis ojos hinchados
flooded with lagrimas
de bronze
melting on the cheek bones
of my concern
razgos indigenas
the scars of history on my face
and the veins of my body
that aches
vomita sangre
y lloro libertad
i do not ask for freedom
i am freedom
no one
not even yahweh
and his thunder
can pronounce
and on a stone
la ley del hombre esculpuir
no puede
mi libertad
and the round tables
of ice cream
hot dog
meat ball lovers meet
to rap
and rap
and i hunger
y mi boca está seca
el agua cristilina
y la verdad
transparent
in a jarro
is never poured
dust gathers on the shoulders
of dignitaries
y de dignidad
no saben nada
muertos en el polvo
they bite the earth
and return
to dust
© Alurista
