Nuev@ Chican@ Poetics

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Mexicans Without Means published in WHATS IN A NOMBRE? Writing Latin@ Identity in America: phati'tude Literary Magazine. xicanismo haikus published in Sagebrush Review: Literary and Art Journal. Si te digo frontera and Mi lengua published by Asociacin Cultural Myrtos, Andalucia, Spain 2010.

PREGUNTAS

Cover Art: rendering of chicharra exoskeleton Printed in El Valle, Tejas second printing Presented for the National Association For Chicana and Chicano Studies, March 2013

poxo 2013 All rights reserved. Permission to reproduce any of the illustrations or written works, except for brief quoted text, must be obtained in writing from the indi-

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BIOGRAPHIES

Rossy Evelin Lima, creative writer and linguist. Her poetry book Ecos de Barro, will be published this year with a forward by the Mexican writer Dolores Castro Varela. She has been published in five anthologies; La ruta de los juglares. McAllen: TX, 2007. Letras en el estuario. Matamoros: Mxico, 2008. Antologa: La mujer rota. Guadalajara: Jalisco, 2008. El Retorno: Our Serpents Tongue. Edinburg: TX, 2012. Along the River II. Rio Grande Valley: TX, 2012. Rossy has been published in various literary magazines and journals in the United States, Mexico and Spain such as 3D3 Revista de Creacin, Asociacin Cultural Myrtos. Andaluca: Spain, 2010. Negritud. Atlanta: GA. 2012. Trajn Literario. Xochimilco: Mexico. 2012. Hartz No. 22. Madrid: Spain, 2012, among others.She received the Gabriela Mistral Award by the National Hispanic Honor Society on 2009. First place in the poetry contest 2o Coloquio Estudiantil at the University of Texas Pan-American, 2010 and first place in the poetry contest Certamen literario Jos Arrese, 2011. First Place in the VAO Publishing's Annual Along the River Poetry Award, 2012. Christopher Carmona is a beat poet following in the tradition of beat poets like Jack Kerouac, Bob Kaufman, and Raul Salinas. He was a nominee for the Alfredo Cisneros de Miral Foundation Award for Writers in 2011 and a Pushcart Prize nominee in 2012. He has been published in numerous journals and magazines including vandal., Bordersenses, and The Sagebrush Review. He has a collection of poetry called beat by Slough Press and his second, I Have Always Been Here is due for publication late 2013. He is also editing a Beat Texas anthology called The Beatest State In The Union: An Anthology of Beat Texas Writings with Chuck Taylor and Rob Johnson. Currently he is organizer of the Annual Beat Poetry and Arts Festival. Gabriel Sanchez is a writer and poet from the Rio Grande Valley, South Texas. He is a graduate of the University of Texas Pan American and also a publisher under the name "The Raving Press". His poetry is at times historical, political and edgy and is featured in spoken word events and online. Isaac Chavarra is a pocho with an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Texas-Pan American. He enjoys assisting non-profit organizations in producing chapbooks for workshop participants. His poems are in The Acentos Review and Rio Grande Review online. Ultimately, he hopes the term pocho will represent a positive identity rather than a pejorative. 32

1
WHERE
IS THE CHICAN NOW MOVEMENT

2
HOW
DID THE CONCEPT POETICS OF

CHICAN@

NUEV@ ?

BEGIN

3
WHO
IS THE

NUEV@ CHICAN@

4
WHERE
IS THE

NUEV@ CHICAN@
HEADED

POETICS

NOTE

ABOUT THE COVER

pictured is the exoskeleton of Quesada giga, the Giant Cicada/ Chicharra Grande. This species is abundant in the rio grande valley, and has a historical range within south texas. for the first four years of their lifecycle the Chicharra Grande is underground as an immature insect partly nurtured by feeding on Huisache tree roots. Huisache as well is a tree commonly found in south texas.

la Chicharra nace en la tierra, como la historia del chicanismo, sale de la tierra y hace un ruido que se escucha a mucha distancia, como la repercusion del movimiento chicano, y despues surge como un nuevo ser: Nuev@ Chican@ Poetics!!!

31

CONTENTS

c.c is Christopher Carmona

mexicans without means, 6 on the day i was born, 19 xicanismo haiku, 23

g.h.s is Gabriel Hugo Sanchez

The Dead Chicano, 8 Nature of the Beast, 9 The Wall is Coming Down, 12

r.e.l.p is Rossy Evelin Lima Padilla

El canon de literatura inmigrane/chicana en Estados Unidos, 13 Mi Lengua, 18 Si te digo frontera, 21 Miel de mezquite, 26

RESPUESTAS

i.c is Isaac Chavarra

un frontera pocho en san Antonio, 15 even chicanos, 27

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NUEV@S VOCES POETICAS: A DIALOGUE

ABOUT

NEW CHICAN@ POETICS

Over the 40+ year history of the Chican@ movements, there has been many shifting identities as well as approaches to literature and art. In the 1960s the fledgling movement first established Chicano as an identity for Mexican Americans, then the necessary voices of Chicanas in the 1970s, 80s, and 90s emerged to helm the movement, and today a current new group has an even wider base of inclusion. Originally, the Chican@ identity was only reserved for Mexican Americans, but as more Central and South Americans integrate into American society, they have begun to share an affinity with the Chican@ identity and combine their experience with the Mexican American and create a different style of poetry, literature, and art. Also because of the current political atmosphere both in the United States

(anti-Latin@ policies and sentiments) and Mexico (the Drug War atmosphere), a new poetic form has emerged. Over the past 5 years, Chican@ (both Chicano and Chicana combined) poetics has had a great resurgence in interest and publication. There is a growing number of poetry readings, chapbooks, magazine publications, and CDs of Latin@ writers who have begun to identify with the political aspirations of the Chican@ movement. This project asks the questions: What has triggered such an interest in Chican@ in recent times? What types of poetry, writing, and art is being created and what are the social factors that have led to a new Chican@ poetics?

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EVEN

EXICANS MEANS

WITHOUT

get asco at a prieto complexion and light siblings even chicanos visit pocholandand dont come back even chicanos hide behind jesus, maiden names, and peacocks even chicanos chug budweiser screaming mother por qu no me visitas? even chicanos marry mexicanas own two kids and live complacently ever after

They say April is the cruelest month well it certainly was for one white boy on a Spring Break trip in the last year of 1980 found in a ditch on a Matamoros ranch his name splashed across newspapers and television screens for years but this poem is not about that boy this poem is about the 14 other Mexicans in that shallow grave whose eyelids have been eaten away by grub worms revealing nothing but mud and the bottom of boots tongues long ago cut off and sacrificed to the gods of popular media their names only worth the space of a number: 14. They were Mexicanos sin nombre. Or maybe August is the cruelest month when 26 migrants were found locked in a railroad car broiled to death in a desert land where even the air burns but not before they paid Coyote everything for a chance to work 12 hrs a day stealing jobs Americans forget ever existed They work in order to feed families left behind certainly not before their towns were decimated by mass production and the lowest price cost analysis They were Mexicanos sin dinero. Or maybe the cruelest month is October when a visiting Colorado man was killed by Mexican pirates while his wife watched in horror his body never recovered Her shock heard round the world from early morning news program to early morning news program Mexican pirates are worse than Caribbean pirates No Johnny Depp here looking like a gay Keith Richards on acid. This man was just another innocent casualty in the Mexican Drug Wars A war Heartland America has nothing to do with Just vacationing in its waters while the river wash away 50,000 dead no names no space for memory no thoughts more than a passing pity no voices one tongue speaks for them nothing but laser fences and shaking heads. They are just Mexicanos sin causa.

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IEL MEZQUITE

DE

But lets not forget about January where a vanished woman lost her hand and her life launching her voice and her body into the war for equality no soldiers funeral for her no folded flag no 21 gun salute she fought a war of insurmountable odds with only her ideas and her tongue she stood at the frontlines of every womans rights shoulders straight fists clenched conviction in her eyes. She slung poems at the abyss and marked her words with blood She gave her soul to the wind hoped that she would be felt Yet, there she lies in a dumpster filled with yesterdays rage her left hand taken a warning to all No national Susana Chavez holiday No patriotic swelling of eyes for this soldier of change who helped shape this world for the better Just a few words from a few papers Mexican woman risked it all so that a girl could walk the streets without fear of being taken violated left like yesterdays facebook post. She was just a Mexicana sin luz. Or maybe it was May when little Brisena Flores was swallowed whole leaving a mother wondering why bullet have you feasted on such young flesh but the bullet knew it is not the physics of combustible powders the spark of metal on metal it is the force of a finger pulling hatred and righteousness because Mexican flowers cant bloom in Arizona they simply dont have the means. Little Brisena did not die without her name she was buried on the tenth page of the paper of record no Today Show special for a mother left without husband daughter no 24 hour news cycle repeating the tragedy of a little girls death nothing for Mexicans without means.

Me sabe a miel de mezquite esta casa y a sobrevivencia el mundo que no habito, donde yo me encuentro se pierde la sonrisa del amigo para convertirse en cerca en desierto en ro. Se confunden las lenguas y el color cambia con la aurora. Somos una mezcla, un cantar al unsono. Y mi letra es tuya y en tu voz soy yo la que grita. Cundo podremos cantar la msica de todos? t y yo solos, separados por una lengua una piel un grito.

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T C
poets were killed on the day after conquest of the indios cant have colonized minds reading. dreaming and reading make me write and sing no stringed instruments or airy notes just mi voz quiet like a lion purring for the pride. cinco karakawas guerreros danced on South Padre beaches mextiso children sell chiclets on concrete bridges los flores reynosa e matamoros progresso mcallen and brownsville driving down 281 in buick skylark with purple clouds dancing with bright sunshine and windows rolled down breeze on the cuff of my sleeve. bats in the bark sucking sweet nectar from nefarious looking grapefruit tree dad with a shovel SPLAT!!! last sound on radar. greened coke bottle filled with water very dry on the other side grandpa says it keeps the dead quenched. tlacuache running on my roof slips and spills can hear scurrying no more now on ground with lost footing ego bruised. torn summer swing rocking back and forth across America cold and dripping sugary raspa red plastic straws stabbing holes for memories to fill.

HE

EAD

HICANO

Este Chicano Man of lettersand guayaberas Little hat sitting on his head Coollittle leaf fluttering in the wind He reads poems to ears that hear gas-pffft! (puro pedo!) Flatulence flowing from this man From his mouth, fajita hole! Dead Chicano Dead! Chingado! Hes reading his own obituary Hes reading his sad soliloquy Because he never knew The tenderness of being loved In this world he never fit His heart too big too cosmic We are ants here, little brown man Chingate el mustache Someone else is driving your car But thanks for building it. Its a nice car, for everyone else But you Dead Chicano Poet Die now your ghost y cai-fine! Your ashes sit in a jar Propping up books That talk about you

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ATURE

Where are the poets of America? Whos talking of our realities Are we broken mirrors unable to present the full view Relegated to talking of cocks and cunts Of haloed angels roaming the streets Getting Jack-ed-off On The Road Only hinting at a discontent Where were those heroes of American poetry When the Fox network declared that we were the enemy That we are illegal That we are criminal Orielly dont embrace no colored man no matter how patriotic And where were the heroes of poetic America When they said we invaded as if war hungry monsters bent on destruction Who started this war? If not the middle of the nation where the meat-n-potatoes started Tastin better cuz the Mexcuns were tilling the soil at slave wages but then wanted to bring their mothers and their fathers and their sisters and their brothers and The All-American boys strapped on their hoods in a panic, in a violent Minute Calling themselves patriotic, tragic figures out on the quest to preserve America And they do it happily if it will quash a lowly immigrant in the Arizona dessert Or drown the down-trodden in the toxic waters of the Rio Grande stream Fighting as if for anything other than a nation of immigrants Who called this war America? Who if not you, for you started all wars that have torn us apart Who started the War On Drugs If not America in the intent to flood the Negro streets with crack cocaine Who started the war on illegal immigration Though ragged sailors were your fathers Who crossed a larger stream Yet they didnt apply for no citizenship And they didnt ask but took And they didnt work for all but for themselves And they didnt first build on what was here but first destroyed And then hung up bows and arrows on their air conditioned walls as relics of a for-

I cannot afford it! tres sitting in the corner dunce cap on father, why speak Spanish in class? dressed for Saturday night my sisters quincenera she is a woman for tonight. cactus nopal cactus nopal prickly spines in my nalgas oh ancient plant I cannot love you! mom spins cures from grandmas hands spider webs for stitches aloe vera for soothing a coke for headache. fajitas on the (mex)quite grill beers in my tios hands tripas in the ground its Saturday night! cuatro susto got me in my sleepwalk cant wake me up might kill my dream in mid-belief. Ive never had mal ojo my grandma says never let bad thoughts inside. raining, pelting, hailing outside my bathroom not like Mary on Sunday more like Jesus hanging on velvet cross.

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XICANISMO

uno lechuza on a high wire a sparking transformer the air waves sing in static a crying woman has drowned her children in a river my ears hide behind shut Is. darkness spills out a crack my closet door ajar el cucuy el cucuy whispers in the dark. devil at the baile cool red jacket dancing all night long

gone era as if saying Ah, fate. She is a fickle lady. And an Indian shed a tear on the TV and you thought wow that was the Ingun way, so in touch with mother Earth that they would cry if they saw the garbage in the streets America you are obsessed with war You have declared war on I-literacy But the dead presidents make no tours down to the barrios and the ghettos And the schools barely have paint on the walls And the teachers dont teach but indoctrinate And the history is absent and Columbus is a hero And slavery was an ugly chapter but thats the past, right? And reverse racism is real, you try being a white in an America where all the top positions go to the blacks and browns and yellows and reds And the ghettos are virtually non-existent because Affirmative Action has eradicated poverty And the jails hold equal numbers of whites and colored andWAIT! This America doesnt exist Here in America War pervades-therell never be peace THIS is America love it or leave it Or change it But with change always travels conflict And so the war isnt over, America The war on war has just started.

on hooved heels.

as I lay sleeping bed made of dreams a huevo hides under my bed. dos the rio grande river redundant name my home mi frontera

mi tierra

indios and spaniards both in line at the checkout speaking neither tongue. mexican american chican@ I like winter stand between summer and spring NO FALL! bless me grandma I am not catholic

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TE

DIGO

T I

HE S

ALL

OMING

OWN

Si te digo Frontera te tendr que pronunciar con llanto por haber corrido con suerte, con la llave de carne con la que me abr paso por entre los mezquites dejando en ellos mi vestido. Mojndome los labios salitrosos, sabiendo que no te quiero pronunciar, escuchando el sonar del ro que te hace virgen que me hace confusa de pensamiento extraa, torcida y con anhelo. Si te digo frontera tendr tambin que gritar muerte tres veces ms, sentadita en tu orilla. Honda, ya no me abras los ojos.

The wall is coming to town Gonna slice through South Texas ground Sharp, lethal, Romanesque Gonna wound the flesh Of victims that seek to pass Cutting through this land That is our home Like an obsidian knife Tearing through our chest Searching to stop that heart That beats with the movements of millennia Migrations of our past Are echoed in migrations of our present The lives of men are destined To a constant ebb and flow No legality rules the movements No right or wrong defines the action Nature must take its course Or there will eventually be war [[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[ [[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[ [[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[(OR)]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]] ]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]] ]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]] ]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]] Atrocities that make The spirit rebel Like hunting illegals In the desert like snakes Or shooting bullets At a man holding rocks Calling it self-defense (but you neglect to state that he never threw at you, Mr. Migra!) The wall is coming to town Indeed not because we want it Indeed not because we need it but because Racisms destiny is still manifest The wall is coming down on us THE WALL IS COMING DOWN!

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EL

CANON

DE

LITERATURA

El canon tiene dos formas, una medida implcita y otra explicita. Este concepto se aplica a la literatura inmigrante/chicana en los Estados Unidos de la siguiente forma. La medida explicita se puede palpar en las diversas antologas, revistas de literatura, clases a nivel universitario y ponencias acadmicas en los diferentes congresos de literatura escrita por hispanos en el pas. Aqu vemos la norma del arte verbal, la manera en la que se extienden las preferencias hacia una literatura que refleje y que represente al hispano/latino en el gremio. La manera explcita del canon de la literatura hispana en Estados Unidos nos habla de nuestro pasado, y al validar nuestra narrativa nos ofrece la visin de un futuro en el que nuestra presencia literaria no ser ignorada. El canon, o las particularidades que tienen en comn las antologas, los libros publicados y las revistas literarias hispanas en el pas, entre otros, forman la base para los autores emergentes. Sobretodo, las obras compiladas en estos medios nos permiten escuchar nuestra historia por medio de la voz familiar, una voz que se parece a la nuestra y que nos representa como tal. La publicacin de obras hispanas en antologas de prestigio como la Norton Anthology of Latino Literature, por casas editoriales de renombre como Oxford, o por universidades como el programa Recovery de Arte Pblico Press, elevan la literatura hispana y la colocan al alcance de las personas. De esta manera sita al hispano para su reconocimiento social en un lugar donde se haba rezagado su existencia. El canon explicito, es la reconstruccin de la historia de un grupo, en este caso el hispano en Estados Unidos; una reconstruccin hecha por la elite acadmica o literaria, que refleja un criterio y que tiene que llenar las expectativas de lo que es hispano ante el resto de la sociedad. En mi opinin, el canon explicito, aunque necesario para el avance del arte literario, basa sus normas en la interpretacin de lo que es hispano o chicano y cmo se maneja en el texto, ms que en la seleccin de textos de calidad escritos por hispanos. Es decir, el canon busca la uniformidad, la congruencia dentro de los textos que incluye en sus antologas, la similitud en la problemtica poltico social que proyecta en las revistas y el impacto emocional que

but not before a dream was sung of a redheaded stranger who would take everything from him on the day that I was born my first ancestor was created out of death and rape his tongue was forbidden his native language his hands forced to bleed production of cotton, corn, and Christianity while his native mother spoke her stories dressed in European images and asked to never forget that this might be a conquered land but our spirit and body will always be free as long as we dream sing and whisper our stories to our childrens children Coyolxauhqui will know whose eye to cry her tear into before the angels can plant their soul. on the day that I was born I cried for the first time and have never stopped since.

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ON

THE

DAY

on the day that I was born the angels came to plant my soul but Coyolxauhqui got there first and cried a tear into my ear so that I would forever dream in verse on the day that I was born we lived on Silver Street while Columbus sailed the ocean blue and chicharras sung their warning song that the waves were bringing death, blood, and sickness closer and closer to the shore on the day that I was born 8-tracks played Iron Butterfly my dad sped down dark streets rushing to meet me for the first time while Roque Dalton stared down a perspiring barrel wet with anticipation and his last words were you may kill me here today but dont say my name because I will come out of the ground and live forever in the words I have written and you will never be able to stop saying my name. on the day that I was born my mother took me in her arms and spoke my name for the first time not for my father or the Catholic saint of travellers but for a little boy she knew who always introduced himselfChristopher Richard and as she lay in that steel hospital bed thousands of indias had their wombs stolen by the icy metallic hands of genocide calling itself medicine and wellness on the day that I was born the last VW bug rolled off the production line putting an end to the Hippie era while Moteuczoma massacred thousands of dreamers when he took power because there is nothing more powerful than dreams

crea la narrativa de abuso, maltrato y sobrevivencia que se ensea en el currculo acadmico. Son estos parmetros los nicos que encontramos en la literatura hispana en general?, Ofrece el canon de la literatura hispana la revalidacin del arte literario hispano en el canon de la literatura mainstream del pas? En mi opinin, la literatura hispana va ms all de los temas subrayados y el canon de la literatura hispana no promueve su integracin a la literatura dominante o mainstream. El canon implcito dictamina que los poetas inmigrantes o chicanos deben de hablar de su realidad para ser tomados en cuenta, as como he visto que al poeta chicano se le toma en cuenta cuando habla sobre sus races mexicanas y su derecho al reconocimiento social. El canon implcito define lo hispano y chicano, los gua hacia la produccin de obras que entren dentro de sus parmetros. Como escritora, esto me preocupa ya que el 80% de mi obra no contiene temas evidentemente poltico-sociales sobre mi condicin inmigrante. Si bien no pienso que este filtro sea cien por ciento perjudicial, s opino que frena la libre expresin de ideas. La narrativa es considerada de inmigracin o chicana porque toca temas y esta escrita en un estilo particular, o porque es escrita por un inmigrante o chicano? La narrativa es hispana porque la escriben hispanos, o porque el canon dice que ciertas narrativas representan lo hispano? El escritor inmigrante o chicano se representa a s mismo; su expresin, siempre cambiante y circular igual que la historia, envuelve la realidad del escritor y debe ser validada como una nueva forma de expresin literaria, no bajo el escrutinio y dictamen del canon y sus formas preconcebidas y estticas. La calidad eminente de la literatura hispana debe de marcar las bases cannicas, no viceversa.

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15

UN

FRONTERA

POCHO

ENGUA

pregunta: dnde est the no license, fly by noche taqueras, tex-mex buffet piratas hawked by chicas en mini-faldas. y mom? still paranoid nunca se queda sentada quier hacer todo o como encuentro el chisme de un paletero corn en un vaso y midnight raspas? respuesta: quin sabe? but stop by la alameda and market square. tal vez encuentras cacahuate japons, un gansito de chocolate photos of Mexican placas pero aplcate con las morenitas

Me descalzaste escaldando mis pies con tu amargo afn, voy oliendo como perra ciega el humo de una tierra que no me ver volver. Voy buscando desperdigada un techo que me acoja. Me lapidas, me desgranas y con asfalto cincelas tu maldicin en mi presencia invisible. Mi lengua qued atada a tu orilla y ah, pesada, la vas ahogando con tu agrio idioma sectario. Mi lengua se ha hecho de vbora, bifurcada te leo firme, con mi acento residente: Todas las palabras se comprenden en este amasijo de lenguas y verdades Listones de agua me pusiste, hilos de agua para que muriera en tu orilla Frontera, lnea maldita en tu suelo siembro mis hijos.

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and during lunch in Milam Park cierra tus ojos y ser como Reynosa, espaol sin acentos los carros alrededor gritando tu nombre.

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