Calling poets to a greater role in public life and fostering a national network of socially engaged poets.
By Rosa ChávezRi oj ab'aj xkoj qetal ruk'a k'atanalaj ch'ich'
Xk'at ri qab'aq'wach //
Las piedras fuimos marcadas con hierro candente
quemados nuestros ojos //
We, stones, were branded by hot iron
our eyes scorched
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By Ruth Irupé SanabriaI am the daughter of doves
That disappeared into dust
Hear my pulse whisper:
By Demetrice Anntía WorleyOn this eve of the dead, I cry out loud,
“por favor Virgen de Guadalupe, don’t
forsake me,” before I open the door,
before I see la policía flat
By Carmen CalatayudSome generations ago,
you were a Zapatista
inside your great-grandmother's
By María Luisa ArroyoMami called us away from the roach trap line
where novice factory workers, fresh from the island,
and I, fresh from Germany, poked
By Nancy MorejónEntre arena y gravilla,
mezcla y paleta,
va transcurriendo su vida