Desirée Alvarez
What is it then between us?

¿Qué es entonces entre nosotros?

My horse is afraid of you and both of us are thirsty.

Stone face, we crossed the seas from Spain,

I've been riding for days past pyramids in Mexico.

Whatever it is, it avails not—distance avails not,

and place avails not. My horse and I are tired

of the blistering desert. Who is your family,

crowd of great heads in a field?

Who has conquered you and whom will I now conquer?

Big rock, your lips look like ancient waves.

Your mouth reminds me of my wife's kisses goodbye.

I am lonely as the moon. Por favor, speak to me,

face in the grass. I remember the first time

I put my fingers inside a woman, and the first time

she put her fingers inside herself.

I too had receiv'd identity by my body,

my body the body uncertain, my body mixed,

dreaming of being a Spanish conquistador,

dreaming of being an Olmec head, carved and mouth sealed

forever. Keep your places, objects than which none else

is more lasting. We plant you permanently within us.

Being what— an across, a Zarathustra, a span

of scarf woven of seventeen colors from what roams,

what flies, what swims and what sings.

Being a woman and a man, stone-crafted and aqueous,

being brown, being tree and flood-tide,

being free citizen of the body earth, electing in revolt

to expand and bring down whatever rises between us.
from the book RAFT OF FLAME/ Omnidawn
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"I wrote this poem’s wild ride after years of tinkering with a short poem about a homesick conquistador. I needed to summon the ghosts of Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz and Walt Whitman to channel my own ambiguous, mixed-race, part-plant nature into being. Time-travelling, I want to see the giant Olmec heads in situ gazing out to sea, toward our crazed future."

Desirée Alvarez on "Primero Sueño, First Dream: On Crossing, A Whitmanesque" 
"Dan Chiasson on the Poetry of Reading and the Darkness of Endless Summer"
 
"I remember once...dropping a poem off at Bidart’s apartment. He stays up all night and sleeps during the day. Our protocol was for me to put my poem in his mailbox. He would call me late at night, having read it."
 
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J. Michael Martinez on "The Wake of Maria de Jesus Martinez"


“'The Wake of Maria De Jesus Martinez' was one attempt to write, as form, a casta-like poem, where each section of the lyric was itself of a different time and space, yet, linked through repeating phrases. As the lyric progressed, the work began to be less 'pictorial' and relied more and more on sound: the emotional labor of the poem was performed/rendered through its music."
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