Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Monday, April 13, 2009

Poem 13. the quitter

when you wrap your hands
your hands around that towel
around that soft, white towel and throw
throw it into the other corner of the ring
the ring where you have been fighting til death
til death seems that for you it will be deadly
deadly as in not going home after its over
after its over you'd like to see your kids again
again ruffle their hair and cuddle with them
with them and for them you throw in the towel
the towel that signifies you know when to quit




PS. What is this all about? National Poetry Writing Month.

Check out some beautiful poetry by other NaPoWriMo peeps:
this year's blog
Everything Flowers From Within
POGA Poetry
Mission Improvisational
Silence is Poetic



Wednesday, April 8, 2009

poem 6.7.8.

poem 6.

I lived in a land of sunlit nights
cobblestone streets, tall boulder buildings
castles, princes, tortilla and paella

a place where family means more
more than money, or your job
and the siesta antics preside over all

a nation where everything moves slow
people, business, and paperwork in government offices
but cars and vespas are the speed demons of hell

balconies bloomed over with red geraniums in terracotta pots
plazas for meeting spots of young, old and all else
children in their Sunday attire, everyday

sweet, sweet candy, and pipas and warm nights
paseando down Santa Clara walking street
kids enjoying every last ray of light on on into dark

there are some things that seem only real in dreams
childhood is one, Spain is two
living there again someday is certainly three



poema 7. mi robot super maquina

cuando me canso de la lluvia
hace que salga el sol brillante
si deseo nieve enciendo mi robot
yo decido el tiempo

mi robot me limpia la casa
y cuida mejor que yo a mis hijos
(nunca se enfada)
(siempre comen a la hora)


me lee libros o ve la tele por mi
y mientras hago otras cosas
me siento y pienso
pienso y no se en que pensar

super robot maquina
no puede pensar
y es lo único que no hace
y lo único que no lo quiero hacer

mi robot hace todo lo que
odiaba antes
pero ahora deseo que se vaya
que me deje trabajar

y que con ella se lleve
mis preocupaciones
mis pensamientos
porque me he cansado de pensar



poema 8. La gallinita ciega

es un juego de niños
una diversión en la que
los ojos son vendados
y vueltas dados
al pobre niño al que esta vez le tocó
sus amiguitos corren, gritan y saltan a su alrededor
insultando al niño en medio
la gallinita ciega gira y gira con manos extendidas
buscando poder agarrar al próximo candidato
todos corren alrededor casi dejándose coger
pegando a la gallinita ciega en la cara, la espalda
que solo es un niño como ellos
sabiendo que todo lo feo lo tienen que hacer ahora
ya que pronto les tocará estar en medio y ser ridiculizados

me doy cuenta mirándoles y riendome
que la vida de mayor, aunque seamos mas viejos
y supuestamente sabios
no lo somos
jugamos a la gallinita como expertos sin palos ni vendajes
golpeando al que le toque estar abajo con todas las ganas
sabiendo que cuando nos toque este también será nuestro fin
la gallinita ciega






napowrimo #6,7,8. (English 4, Spanish 4)

PS. What is this all about? National Poetry Writing Month. I will be participating. I have neglected writing poetry for years now and I want to try to do the NaPoWriMo- a poem a day every day for 30 days. If I miss I won't squirm though, I'll just write two the next day. I hope you enjoy it, and let me know if you are doing this too and we can spur each other on in love and encouragement. Oh, these are all completely rough drafts...but I have nothing to hide, why hide?

Check out some beautiful poetry by other NaPoWriMo peeps:
this year's blog
Everything Flowers From Within
POGA Poetry
Mission Improvisational
Silence is Poetic

Sunday, April 5, 2009

poem 5. favourites

sunday lazies seeping in
hiking through the woods
writing poetry by fingertip
long walks while breathing sunshine

sleeping cats soaking in fire
books that own you
a cup of hot tea, sweet hot tea
snow flakes falling silently

the kind of rain that greens the grass
smell of dirt's rebirth each spring
sun peeking from between the clouds
giggles, the laughter of a child

being on a journey somewhere
loving those who need it
pretty colours together
dancing on air

these are a few of my favourite things






napowrimo #5 (English 3, Spanish 2)
favourites: in all honesty I am completely brain dead today, completely. It almost makes me cringe to post this, but I promised 1 poem a day, and even if that day is rotten, the poetry must go on! I hope that tomorrow I feel less tired and more poetic (for the sake of us all!!:).

PS. What is this all about? National Poetry Writing Month. I will be participating. I have neglected writing poetry for years now and I want to try to do the NaPoWriMo- a poem a day every day for 30 days. If I miss I won't squirm though, I'll just write two the next day. I hope you enjoy it, and let me know if you are doing this too and we can spur each other on in love and encouragement. Oh, these are all completely rough drafts...but I have nothing to hide, why hide?

Check out some beautiful poetry by other NaPoWriMo peeps:
this year's blog
Everything Flowers From Within
POGA Poetry
Mission Improvisational
Silence is Poetic

Saturday, April 4, 2009

poem.4 lo feo de la noche

grito pero el silencio me secuestra
lloro y mi garganta se encoge
corro pero no existe movimiento
doy puñetazos y pataleo golpeando al aire

todo me rodea
tristeza por lo que ni siquiera entiendo
mi vida se pasea como engaño ante mi

gato dormido
perro tranquilo
fuego abierto

que feas son las pesadillas




ugly night (translation of my poem 'lo feo de la noche')

silence kidnaps my screams
my throat shrinks as I cry out
there is no movement when I run
punching and kicking the air

everything surrounds me
sadness for what I don't understand
my life struts before me like a tease

sleeping cat
calm dog
an open fire

bad dreams are so ugly


napowrimo #3 (English 2, Spanish 2)

PS. What is this all about? National Poetry Writing Month. I will be participating. I have neglected writing poetry for years now and I want to try to do the NaPoWriMo- a poem a day every day for 30 days. If I miss I won't squirm though, I'll just write two the next day. I hope you enjoy it, and let me know if you are doing this too and we can spur each other on in love and encouragement. Oh, these are all completely rough drafts...but I have nothing to hide, why hide?




Friday, April 3, 2009

poem.3 the beauty of blank

to fill it just because it is empty
to admire it only because it is full
to see him only when he is worthy
oh, if my eyes could really see

the words are deeper than their letters
lips say more than just their movement
breath comes to all the living
who am I to classify?

I will leave blank what should be
because letting go is
so often is harder
than filling a page in
to giving meaning is
covering over the silence

in silence lies
the beauty
the pain
the shame
the joy
the guilt
who am I to give it a name?

I cannot explain silence
nor can I master it
the careless words from my tongue
are just an imitation of the reality
but only the reality that I perceive


but to fill the silence
just because it is empty
to love because it is full
is changing things to benefit me
making others into
what I would like to see




blank is beautiful







napowrimo #3 (English 2, Spanish 1)
the beauty of blank: my grandmother couldn't handle silence, quiet, or anything that wasn't filled in by her descriptions, her words. I was little but for some reason it now seems that she was fearful, fearful to not have her impressions controlling those around her. I think we can all be guilty of it. One time my dad told her that Native American chiefs would sit in silence for days. I think she took offense. But, there is something to be said of not always needing to hear the sound of ones own voice on every single thing. Yeah, this is for me...as I learn to shut up.

That is my take on what this poem means. What does it mean to you? Something different is completely fine! Please share with me. :)

PS. What is this all about? National Poetry Writing Month. I will be participating. I have neglected writing poetry for years now and I want to try to do the NaPoWriMo- a poem a day every day for 30 days. If I miss I won't squirm though, I'll just write two the next day. I hope you enjoy it, and let me know if you are doing this too and we can spur each other on in love and encouragement. Oh, these are all completely rough drafts...but I have nothing to hide, why hide?

Thursday, April 2, 2009

poem.2 espera

Se que cuando me calle
tu hablarás
y que cuando hables
la voz que emitirás
será dulce y fuerte
humilde y valiente
a la misma vez

Se que cuando me mires
yo me callaré
y que cuando sienta tu mirada
no oiré nada más
solamente
el suspirar de tu aliento
el aire en tu movimiento

Se que cuando te oiga
sentiré porque late tu corazón
te escucharé
tus sufrimientos
tu realidad
y el mio
se harán el mismo

Se que me explicarás
toda pregunta
y que contestarás
toda duda
entonces me daré cuenta
de que en realidad la espera
ha sido tuya y no mía




napowrimo #2 (English 1, Spanish 1)
espera: I wrote this one in Spanish, poetry sounds better in Spanish to me most of the time anyway. Some of you can read it, I hope you'll enjoy! :)

PS. What is this all about? National Poetry Writing Month. I will be participating. I have neglected writing poetry for years now and I want to try to do the NaPoWriMo- a poem a day every day for 30 days. If I miss I won't squirm though, I'll just write two the next day. I hope you enjoy it, and let me know if you are doing this too and we can spur each other on in love and encouragement. Oh, these are all completely rough drafts...but I have nothing to hide, why hide?


Some great poetry links:
Poems Out Loud (an amazing site)

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

poem.1 cotton candy melts so fast

cotton candy pinks and blues
dirty faces and sneaker shoes
childhood madness breaking loose
all this belongs in my memory

between then and now I know I'd want
the present for the past is gone
but I wish I may, I wish I might
for just one day visit who I used to be

then I'd leave happy to know
what I've thought all along
that living now is much better than
dreaming of what has disappeared

childhood is only good while it lasts
memories are all I have left
but those are sweet and multicoloured
as if only for my benefit

cotton candy pinks and blues
dirty faces and sneaker shoes
childhood madness breaking loose
all belongs in my memory


PS. this is the beginning of National Poetry Writing Month. I will be participating. I have neglected writing poetry for years now and I want to try to do the NaPoWriMo- a poem a day every day for 30 days. If I miss I won't squirm though, I'll just write two the next day. I hope you enjoy it, and let me know if you are doing this too and we can spur each other on in love and encouragement. Oh, these are all completely rough drafts...but I have nothing to hide, why hide?

Monday, September 29, 2008

Darfur

http://dusteye.files.wordpress.com/2007/03/darfur.jpg

home is gone
life smells dank
youth is no loner young
food does not nourish

loss, fighting, war
severance of love
gone is my family

do people know?
are they coming to help?

b.

http://128.97.251.217:8080/img/photos/2007/11/01/web.ae.screenscene.darfur.picA_t820.jpg

they are not a political stance
not a sign to put on your lawn
your house, your car
or a hat to wear

they are a people
a proud nation
our brothers, sisters

real voices, real hopes
desires
a part of us that needs help

they are a people
a proud nation
our brothers, sisters

so put on your "save darfur" paraphernalia
wear your hats, ties, bracelets, shirts
bring on the awareness


but don't make Darfur your status symbol
a symbol of who you are
and what you stand for
of how you will vote
let them break your heart
over and over
don't grow cold
always hear the cries
don't neglect the need

they are a people
a proud nation
our brothers, sisters

b.











Wednesday, August 6, 2008

BELONGING: Interview, Exerpt and GIVEAWAY!!!


http://www.thetranslationproject.org/wp-content/uploads/Belonging.jpg

About a month ago I wrote a review of BELONGING: New Poetry by Iranians Around the World. Since then the author, Niloufar Talebi contacted me and I have had a chance to meet her (in Portland) and also to interview her!! I love the work that she is doing, and wish to share it with you all.

http://www.thetranslationproject.org/wp-content/uploads/.thumbs/.niloufarTalebi_crop.JPG

Interview
Questions for Niloufar Talebi, author of BELONGING and founder of The Translation Project:


b:Tell us about The Translation Project:

Niloufar:The Translation Project <www.thetranslationproject.org> is a nonprofit, nonpolitical 501 (c) 3 organization dedicated to bringing contemporary Iranian literature to wide audiences through literary translation, and multimedia projects based on the translated literature. Presenting the literature through theater, videos, etc. is our expanded notion of translation, a further means to familiarize audiences with a (contemporary) literature which has been rather invisible on the world stage so far. Our mission is to include this literature in the modern global conversation.

b:What was the hardest part about birthing BELONGING? When did your dream for this book begin?

Niloufar:The research on this book began in late 2002 when I first discovered and fell in love with the art and craft of translation. At the same time, I began to wonder why the treasures of contemporary Iranian literature (20th and 21st Century) were not known and celebrated in other countries in the same way that, for example, Pablo Neruda is. That's when I founded The Translation Project, and began work on BELONGING, which is a selection of Iranian poets who live outside Iran AND recite in Persian. It took several years to compile a list of them, a list of 140 poets which I make available in BELONGING. I translated about 30 poets over the course of the 6 years, 18 of whom are featured in BELONGING. Translations were done with the assistance of Zack Rogow and Daniel O'Connell.

The most difficult aspect of putting BELONGING together was composing a cohesive idea behind the anthology. As I mention in the 'Notes on Selection', few have dedicated themselves to collection and discourse in this young field, so my challenge was to put the works I found into perspective: to read their work not only within the context of their own work, but within the context of the greater 'modern and contemporary' Iranian poetry, as well as that of world poetry, which is where I think these works ultimately belong, since the poets live the world over. These poems are told from the prism of the iranian experience, but leave a universal emotional impact.

b:How did you select what poets would be translated and which of their works put in BELONGING?

Niloufar: It was a long process. We translated many more poems and poets than ended up in BELONGING. To whittle down the list, I sent out translations to literary publications, to translation competitions, read them at dozens of events, created theater from the poems, made short films based on them, and sent them to other poets and translators for feedback. I took note of which ones made the most impact on readers. Over the years, a cohesive manuscript, a balanced composition of poems of various styles and themes came together. On a practical note, to keep the anthology accessible, I included 6 poets from each of the three generations who live and recite currently, with 5-6 pages of poetry per poet, plus a biographical sketch.

b:Do you think that poets and writers have a different story to tell than what the news media would cover on the nation of Iran? What do you notice as the largest difference?

Niloufar: What appears in the media is rarely about the PEOPLE and CULTURE of Iran; otherwise we would watch shows about Iranian hospitality, cooking, love for the outdoors, family values, the mountain ranges of Iran, miniature paintings, Iranian love for poetry, the art of story-telling (Naghali), the art of the Persian carpet, their celebration of the seasons, and so on. But there are no such show! What is produced and broadcast in the media are convenient snapshots of a manufactured enemy. So it becomes even more urgent to celebrate the arts and culture of Iran, the voice of its people. Poets tell the human story.

b: Reading about different nations is empowering, it rids us of the fear of the unknown just a little bit each time. Thus the world becomes a smaller place. What is your goal for the American audience with the poetry that you translated in BELONGING and that you perform? Has that dream changed as this project gained momentum?

Niloufar: I am always learning in this process. It remains to be seen what an impact the bilingual volume of BELONGING makes on readers, both American and Iranian-American. I hope the average reader, and not only the poetry connoisseur, is able to connect with BELONGING. That is a personal goal for me, to make 'high art' accessible. No one should be intimidated by poetry; it should be FOR readers, not an alienating force against them. Iranians recite poetry on a daily basis, which they use as proverbs, expressions, etc. Accessibility was one of the guiding principle by which the poems in BELONGING were selected. In shaping our projects, responding to audience trends plays an integral role. We know that folks are not reading as much, but are sharing content on Youtube, for example, so we created films based on the poems ('Midnight Approaches'), which appear on our Youtube channel <www.youtube.com/translationproject>. We have also created two multimedia theatrical pieces ("Four Springs' and 'ICARUS/RISE') based on the poems in BELONGING, reaching out to wider audiences. Not only do unlikely audiences gain access to the poetry, but we also provide an opportunity for artists who collaborate with us to engage with the poetry on a deep level, available to them by and large for the first time as a source of inspiration. I would say this has been the innovative aspect of our work, expanding our notion of translation, instigating collaborative projects based on the translated literature to encourage their longevitiy in our cultural consciousness.

b: I see a sense of deep pride in the arts when I read BELONGING, and when I watched the introductory video and the performances. Persia has a deep rooted artistic talent, could you tell me a bit about the impact that legacy has on you?

Niloufar: I was lucky enough to have a direct route to this legacy. Spending time with the iconic poet and thinker, Ahmad Shamlou (1925-2000), who visited my parents socially in the 1980's, has no doubt shaped my dedication to this legacy. As T.S. Eliot said in 'Tradition and the Individual Talent', tradition is a two-fold concept: what we may think of as 'traditional' was actually in its time art that broke with 'tradition', art that forged a new way ahead. This is what any artist of significance, in any culture achieves to then become part of the 'tradition' of that culture. I hope BELONGING inspires readers to acknowledge and fill in the gap between the great 13th Century Persian poet, Rumi, and contemporary poetry, to examine the poets of the modernist movement in Iranian poetics, which produced a number of other iconic Iranian poets, such as Nima Yushij, Forough Farrokhzad, Ahmad Shamlou, Sohrab Sepehri, Simin Behbahani, and Mehdi Akhavan Saales.

b: Has the movement been silenced (and gone underground) for a while in Iran during the wars and the differences between neighboring nations, or is it due to a lack of translation that I personally have not had much experience with Persian arts?

Niloufar: Iranian literature inside Iran has found ways to survive new (and sometimes brutal) forms of censorship, and has flourished, in fact. The number of women writers has multiplied, for example, contrary to what might be expected. And though there have been both scholarly and literary translations of Iranian works, somehow few works in translation have captured the imagination of the foreign readers, at least in this country. The poet, Forough Farrokhzad is becoming more and more known. Shahrnush Parsipur has two books in English translation. Dick Davis has translated classical Persian poetry, as well as the Pezeshkzad novel, My Uncle Napoleon. Moniru Ravanipur's new book is due to be translated into English. Shahryar Mandanipour's work in English translation is due to be published soon. Ibex Publishers has published love poems by Ahmad Shamlou in English translation. A translation of Mahmoud Dowlatabadi's Missing Soluch was just published in the US. And there must be other projects I don't know of yet. So the works are out there. Remember that in the US, only between 0.3% - 3% of books published annually are works of translation, so we must actively look for them. A great resource for world literature in translation is <www.wordswithoutborders.org>

b: Is there anything else that you would like to talk about, or tell us about?


Niloufar: I am working on our next multimedia theatrical piece, due to premier in 2010. Like ICARUS/RISE, it also draws on the Iranian tradition of Naghali (story-telling), adds contemporary content to it and fuses it with western dramatic elements to reflect the true hybrid-Iranian experience in contemporary society. For periodic updates on our next piece, visit www.thetranslationproject.org



The poetry in Belonging is stunning, see for yourself:


A Bird Is a Bird


When I draw open this curtain
A TV antenna
And often
A few robins
Decorate my morning.

But it is not a scarcity of windows
That has brought me here;

This rectangular blue
I could have had
Anywhere else.
Birds too
All over the world
Sit in such a way
That their velvety breasts
Are within eye's reach.
Now, red robins of black crows,
What difference does it make?
A bird
Is a bird.

To be honest, I don't remember
What I've come here for.
Surely, must have been an important reason.
One doesn't just
Make a vagabond of oneself
For no reason.
When I remember
I will finish this poem...

(BELONGING, p. 83 Abbas Saffari)


Conversation in the Dark
To my dear Jaleh

Mid nights, when I'm ill and awake
And no light is visible even from a pinhole
And the soft song of your deepest breaths
Accompanies the treble and bass of my heart
To the constant ticking of the clock,
Then I see that even if my thoughts are alone,
My heart, in the hollow of my chest , is not.

Softly, I bend my head over your bedside
And lightly kiss your lashes, joined in sleep.
You feel the weight of the kiss on your eye and smile.
I kiss your cheek warm
And although the clamor of your laughter echoes in my ear,
In the dark waves of night,
Your laughing face does not manifest.

Quietly, I strike a match
To illuminate your face,
But soon, the red sulfuric spark,
Rising and falling upon my two blackened fingers,
Dies in the twist and turn of its dance
And again, dense darkness
Settles in our little bedchamber.
I tell myself: Aside from that brief instant-
The moment I glimpsed youf dear face
-My eye does not have fortune to see.

Like a child fearing darkness,
I pave a path to your embrace
And petrified of something I can't name,
I steal this wisper in your ear:
Kinder than all the world's kindliest creatures!
Oh friend, sweetheart, mother, companion on this voyage!
Scream away so even stone-hearted death
Does not undo us in the promisted moment!
For we both know that in a riotous
World of swarming crowds,
And of all that avails on the endless horizon,
If we have a destiny, it is our loneliness.

And this house, smaller than a boat, sails us-
The distressed-into the sea exile.
But on the alarming horizon of this sea,
Night prevails
And reveals no path in darkness
To tomorrow.

(BELONGING, P. 25 Nader Naderpour)


Don't you love it!?
I have a copy of BELONGING for one lucky commenter thanks to Niloufar Talebi and North Atlantic Books!

Do you want it? Here is how to get it: Comment on this post, telling me what you love about poetry and get one entry, blog about it on your blog and get two more (but make sure you tell me that you did :)! You have until the 14th, I'll pick a winner on the 15th.

I honestly really want to keep this copy, as the one I have is an advanced readers copy, and this one I just got is much nicer than mine, but I won't be greedy, I will give it for someone else to enjoy :)

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Voice of Ice (Voix de Glace)


Title: Voice of Ice/ Voix de Glace
Author: Alta Ifland
Publisher: Les Figues Press
Pages: 117
Yearly Count: 21

The Voice of Ice is part of Les Figues Press' ThrenchArt: The Parapet Series. It is a book of prose poetry written and translated by Alta Ifland, traveling through her life drawing out feelings that we all have experienced at one time. The first poem is Birth, Death is the last and her journey is all that is found in-between. The poems take you to a dream state, a place where life drifts away and you are not sure where reality and dreams begin and end. There is also a very nightmarish texture to her writing, it captivates and yet you feel like you are running and you can't get home. Much of her poetry is on the deeper, darker side, however this encourages her style of intense symbolism and allows the reader to follow her travels. To be honest, I did not understand all of it, but really that is not the point of a lot of poetry. The reason you read poetry is to be captured by phrasing , the imagery and beauty of it all. Ifland has done much more than just grab a set of poems, she really takes you with her through her life and allows you to feel the pain right along with her, she also takes you into the joys of her life, the passions, the intensity.

Voice of Ice is a very quick read, I devoured it in one evening and wanted more of it. Each poem was originally written in French (Alta lived in France, and has worked as a French teacher), so on one page is each poem in French and opposite the French is her English translation of them all as well. Because I love languages I enjoyed glancing at the French too, even though I don't know French...but Spanish is sometimes close (sometimes).

If you enjoy modern poetry, poetry composed by life and driven by experiences...Voice of Ice would be exactly what you would enjoy. If you are interested in this author, go to Alta Ifland's
website,you will find some of her prose poems there, her bio and other information about her.

Here is an excerpt of one of my favourite of Ifland's Poems,


My Neighbors

From dawn to dark, day after day, we drag and enormous rock tied to our feet, and emptiness eats at our bellies. I look at my neighbors. She, her face stretched by the many plastic surgeries, her skin translucent because of the serum, her mouth stuck in the permanent grin of an aborted smile, her whole head stiff as if desperately trying to stop her features from collapsing into the face's vacancy. He, from one antidepressant to another. He knows them all by heart, their side effects and proper dosages. The children, also medicated. Attention deficit disorder. A glass of wine in my hand, I watch them at night, across the fence, satisfied that I am not the unhappiest being on the earth. The more they are unhappy, the less I feel alone. But are they unhappy? Can they feel their unhappiness, from one screen to another and in-between phone calls, busy as they are not feeling anything?

I open a second bottle of wine. Alone with my unhappiness. It, at least, is mine. But they, do they have anything of their own? Have the been abandoned even by their unhappiness?


- Voice of Ice, Alta Ifland (p. 39).

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

187 Reasons Mexicanos Can't Cross the Border


Title: 187 Reasons Mexicanos Can't Cross the Border
Author: Juan Felipe Herrera
Publisher: City Lights
Pages: 354
Yearly Count: 17

187 Reasons Mexicanos Can't Cross the Border contains amazing poetry, anti-poetry, narratives and short stories of Herrera's works for over 35 years. This book gathers the "undocuments" from 1971-2007, and reading it you can watch the history of the Mexicano unfold before you, it is as though Herrera has painted a wall, a wall of graffiti. Art many willingly accept yet others will walk right past never daring to look too hard. This wall is sometimes disjointed, uncomfortable, and awkward, but that is the life of the Mexicano in this world, and that is the beauty of the picture Juan Felipe Herrera lays before his readers. Also like a graffiti wall in that you get little snippets of love and hate, of peace, of war, of pride and self-consciousness. Each story or poem gives glimpses, which alone would be beautiful, but in this compilation they become completed as all together they form a whole. Reading through the undocuments, some really captured me, drove me to a new level of compassion and understanding, while others were most likely targeting someone else. Just as walking through an art exhibit some pieces you cannot tear yourself from, others you barely notice...and understand that each viewer/ reader will take home a completely different experience. Herrera will meet you where you are. He will challenge you at the place you now find yourself.

Herrera goes beyond these borders and also captures the relations between the landinos and the indios of Mexico and the full America Latina. He goes out of his way to show us the differences, the similarities, and the life, that if we are not living are not aware of the difficulty that comes with it. Yet, this is not only a text full of sadness, pain and suffering, it is just as full of pride, loyalty, love, and acceptance. It is a modern day Tarzan call to all those who will hear, it is a cry that rings throughout the nations, a call that when read cannot be ignored, it is a cry mostly for truth, and justice. It is a call to be prideful of your heritage, to not give in to smoothing differences, to not change the way you appear to yourself or to the critics around you. In 187 Reasons Mexicanos Can't Cross the Border, Herrera displayed one thing with the loudest voice: injustice. He gave injustice a voice- a jagged, crunchy, palpable voice.

Here is an excerpt: