Juan Felipe Herrera
insideyou will find your namewritten on a piece of flesh — Juan Felipe Herrera, from “Interview w/a Border Machine,” Every Day We Get More Illegal (City Lights, 2020)
Category: Chicano Literary Movement
Sandra Cisneros
Bring me a drink.I need to think a little.Paper. Pen.And I could use the stinkof a good cigar–eventhough the sun’s out.The grackles in the trees.The grackles inside my heart.Broken feathers and stiff wings. I could jump.But I don’t.You could kill me.But you won’t. The gracklescalling to each other.The long hours.The long hours.The long hours. —… Continue reading Sandra Cisneros
Luis Omar Salinas
If the windwere a woman, I’d fall in loveevery day, — Luis Omar Salinas, from “Chivalry,” Elegy For Desire. (University of Arizona Press; 1st Edition, April 1, 2005)
Luis Omar Salinas
Sometimes in the evening when lovetunes its harp and the cricketscelebrate life, I am like a troubadourin search of friends, loved ones,anyone who will share with mea bit of conversation. My lonelinessarrives ghostlike and pretentious,it seeks my soul, it is ravenousand hurting. I admire my fatherwho always has advice in these matters,but a game of… Continue reading Luis Omar Salinas
Lorna Dee Cervantes
Life leaves through the gate of an ache, where you are, a vanishing landscape. Do I dare it back? — Lorna Dee Cervantes, from “Hotel,” From the Cables of Genocide: Poems on Love and Hunger (1991)
Lorna Dee Cervantes
I’m burning like the white ring around the moon. “A witch’s moon,” dijo mi abuela. The schools call it “a reflection of ice crystals.” It’s a storm brewing in the cauldron of the sky. I’m in love — Lorna Dee Cervantes, from “The Body As Braille,” Emplumada. (University of Pittsburgh Press; 1 edition, December 31,… Continue reading Lorna Dee Cervantes
Rachel McKibbens
A child came up to me in the park and asked for a cigarette. Her eyes were startled cats, her voice, a chandelier. I don’t smoke, I said. She took a seat beside me on the bench, resting her head against my shoulder. Her hair smelled like an old dictionary cracked open after rain. I… Continue reading Rachel McKibbens
Sandra Cisneros
no do not mistake this myth for love— that is a different kind of burning — Sandra Cisneros, from “Valparaiso,” My Wicked Ways: Poems. (Knopf, November 17, 1992)
Lorna Dee Cervantes
Regret is an uneven hand, a rough palm at the cheek — tender and calloused. — Lorna Dee Cervantes, from “First Thought,” Sueño (Wings Press, 2013)
Francisco X. Alarcón
If I become mute kissing your thighs, it’s that my heart eagerly searches your flesh for a new dawn.” — Francisco X. Alarcón, from “Of Dark Love” From the Other Side of Night/Del Otro Lado De LA Noche: New and Selected Poems. (University of Arizona Press; Bilingual edition February 1, 2002)
The Vale of Soul-Making 