Lady Liberty
your huddled masses have arrived
and we can’t breathe.
Lady Liberty
You need glasses
If I love Nicaragua, I must criticize Nicaragua — Nicaragua, as a society, as a government — because I care about it. … No healthy patriotism comes from the notion that the things you love are above critique. Where there is injustice, oppression, flawed systems within your society, country, government, religion, family, we must speak out.
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“We are trying our best to bring forth every strand of Latinidad and also be able to put the idea of “Latinidad” under a microscope and criticize it and dig up its dirt and try to shut down anti-blackness. We’re starting to come to terms with the fact that Latinx isn’t a race, even if it is a marginalized group heavily targeted by the president. Everything is constantly redefining itself and it’s nice to be a part of the cycle.”
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For many of these writers, their Latinx identity and commitment to their craft are inseparable. Jiménez says she has been writing poetry for as long as she can remember — and being Latinx, being Puerto Rican, is a crucial part of that. “I think that’s the way most of us see our artmarking,” she says. “That’s just a part of who we are, and how we move in the world.”
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This series — Latinx & Proud! — is a look into the world of Latinx literature and the poets who use language to explore the boundaries of their communities and identities. By sharing these interviews and articles, we hope […]
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In recognition of Banned Books Week, Sampsonia Way presents a selection of exclusive interviews, excerpts, and profiles of the banned writers who have appeared in our pages – from imprisoned Chinese activists to American poets.
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by Mehrnaz Tiv
“She flows like petals, just as soft and as sweet,/Drowning these western slopes in lush tonics of springtime./June she blooms, then in august she glows./ The pittsburgh sun sticks like jasmine honey.”
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by Lindsay Surmacz
“Your strength is what made you The Great One./ Not the might that scarred the sky three thousand times,/ but the will that forged broomsticks and soup cans/ into silver scepters and golden gloves.”
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by anaïs peterson
“2. the notable absence of acute danger/
a. soft orange evening light and faded blue couch covers/
b. mass produced lemon bars over dusted with powdered sugar that are somehow still delicious”
by Gail Langstroth
“March winds vex pine boughs/forsythia says we love you, air; /we love you/ my shadow claws cement’s/ cache”
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by Shooooz
Listen, when I point out
The scent of fresh-baked revisionism
Lingering in the air
While the woman in the window
With the perfect beachy hair
Bends over the oven and
She has no face
Just a thin, wide-spaced font
Across her front
Typeset in too many tongues to count
When I see an animal alone in the biggest field
I wonder if they are lonely or if I’m projecting.
Every night this winter a parade
of brake lights, the backstory.
