Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Monday, December 08, 2008

Tuesday, December 02, 2008

Monday, December 01, 2008

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Saturday, November 29, 2008

Friday, November 28, 2008

Friday, November 21, 2008

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Monday, November 17, 2008

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Monday, November 10, 2008

Sunday, November 09, 2008

Saturday, November 08, 2008

Friday, November 07, 2008

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

obama visiting us here in deep south tejas~borderlands, feb. 2008. texas might be a red state, but our borderlands are blue.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Thursday, October 23, 2008

"Es el mundo
el que quema (y no el sol)
el que lava..."

"It's the world
that burns (and not the sun)
that cleanses..."

from Septiembre
by Dolores Dorantes
translated by Jen Hofer

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Sunday, October 19, 2008

"Seeds from before
the time of Christ"

from "History" by Demetria Martínez in Breathing between the Lines

Saturday, October 18, 2008

Saturday, October 11, 2008

joy harjo reading

*at 20:20 she plays a "traditional lakota women's love song" and then reads the poem "the myth of blackbirds," a poem from the woman who fell from the sky

Friday, October 10, 2008

Thursday, October 09, 2008

Tuesday, October 07, 2008

Monday, October 06, 2008

"The heavenly things ignite and freeze."

from "We Manage Most When We Manage Small" by Linda Gregg from Too Bright to See

Saturday, October 04, 2008

Friday, October 03, 2008

"One day I dyed a baby goat bright red
with my red berries, just to see
something a little different."

from "Crusoe in England"
by Elizabeth Bishop

Thursday, October 02, 2008

Wednesday, October 01, 2008

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Friday, August 15, 2008

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Monday, August 11, 2008

RIP, Mahmoud Darwish

One square meter of prison

It's the door, and beyond it is the paradise of the heart. Our things—and everything is ours—are interchangeable. And the door is a door, the door of metonymy, the door of legend. A door to keep September gentle. A door that invites fields to begin their wheat. The door has no door, yet I can go into my outside and love both what I see and what I do not see. All of these wonders and beauties are on earth—there—and yet the door has no door? My prison cell accepts no light except into myself. Peace be unto me. Peace be unto the sound barrier. I wrote ten poems to eulogize my freedom, here and there. I love the particles of sky that slip through the skylight—a meter of light where horses race. And I love my mother's little things, the aroma of coffee in her dress when she opens the door of day to her flocks of hens. I love the fields between Autumn and Winter, the children of our prison guard, and the magazines displayed on a distant sidewalk. I also wrote twenty satiric poems about the place in which we have no place. My freedom is not to be what they want, but to enlarge my prison cell, and carry on my song of the door. A door is a door, yet I can walk out within me, and so on and so forth.

by Mahmoud Darwish
in translation
from Unfortunately, It Was Paradise

Saturday, August 09, 2008

green parakeets

I love the green parakeets in the RGValley. I love hearing them flying past in small squawking groups. Listen

* * *

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

After working all day to get the house ready for Hurricane Dolly, I'm tired. And worried. My first hurricane. Worried about flooding more than anything. Worried about those who live closer to the gulf, and those who live near the levees. Worried about the folks transported from the immigration detention centers. Worried that papeles are still important during disastrous times. Upset that the fed. gov. started working on the border wall this week instead of doing more to help us survive. Worried that the shelters being set up in town do not allow pets. Worried about projectiles flying through windows. Worried about those with infants. Worried about the elderly. Worried about those with few family members nearby. Happy to see neighbors joking today, at the sandbag station. A sense of comraderie as we filled our sandbags. Someone said, "Hello, Dolly!" and joked that the exercise in the heat was working off the big hamburger he ate. The RG Valley was alive today with activity. I can see now why people stock up on cerveza and party along with the storm. Now it is quiet. It's still quiet here. The rain is coming and the wind--soon. Before it got dark, the sky was pink, a pink I've never seen or noticed before. A slight flush, fever before the storm. It was hot today. I brought in all my lawn furniture and a few creepy crawlies came in too. I thought, should I save the fly that wants to come in with me or wave it outside? The bird (sparrow?) nest under the porch was just rebuilt this week after knocked down by wind. It will be the first to go. I heard a few green parakeets squawk by before sundown. I am impressed with everyone working together today. At the same time, I did not like how a woman opened her car door at the HEB that slammed into my car and didn't even say sorry. Just kind of looked my way for a second. And then proceeded to walk into HEB, fixing her hair. It wasn't even windy yet. Not one bit of wind. I'm in the outer bands, I believe. I send a prayer to the universe for all who are closer to more flooding and more struggle and hope all make it through this. I grew up in Cali, and don't fear earthquakes. But I fear hurricanes (and tornadoes... thought about The Wizard of Oz today... yes, the early evening sky felt like that eery and strangely fascinating technicolor); the unknown. Peace.
"The federal government was to begin this week constructing the first part of the new border fence in Hidalgo County. While project supervisors met with emergency officials about the storm, large cranes unloaded steel beams and other supplies at a staging area near the levee Monday. Concrete walls will be incorporated into the river side of the levees to keep floodwaters, illegal immigrants and smugglers out."

Hurricane season. Hurricane Dolly. The Rio Grande Valley in deep South Texas. The border wall construction. The levees. Construction of the wall halted for the time being. But when the storm blows over, construction will start again. This border wall horrible, horrible, horrible. And now, added to the list of why it is so obviously horrible: the future safety of millions who live here, one of the poorest counties in the nation. Hurricane warnings and with levees in need of repair.

I'm building my little boat in preparation for the tropical storm, possibly a hurricane. Can still cross the Rio Grande~Bravo.

Monday, July 21, 2008

Friday, July 18, 2008

"when the herd returns
we'll be asking for peace,
we'll be asking for a blessing,
we'll be making peace with our mothers,
when the herd returns
we'll share our bounty with those who didn't plant,
we'll eliminate poverty and hunger,
when the herd returns
we'll live with less,
we'll be singing to bring rain,
singing to heal our grief
singing to the moon.

from "On the Wing" by Margo Tamez from Naked Wanting (University of Arizona Press 2003).

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

"The Río is called Bravo"

"The Río is called Bravo
because of the walking Pirañas
that patrol along
the steel laced fence."

from "Río Grande" by José Antonio Burciaga