In 2007, I resigned my high school teaching position in the Bronx and started library school at Queens College. Because my library science degree had evolved to incorporate an invisible "I" (MLIS vs. MLS), I took several classes on web and image design in library school. As a result, the whole Internet-veil thing became demystified and I could clearly see the Mr. Oz in the machine.
In 2009, I bought some server space in Canada and purchased a stack of ISBNs from Bowker and started a literary journal, Hinchas de Poesía (www.hinchasdepoesia.com). I used Dreamweaver to design the first couple of issues and we are publishing our eighth issue on December 21, 2012--the day the Mayan calendar ends. Hinchas de Poesia directly addresses the aesthetic interconnectedness between North America and Latin America, and attempts to comment on the evolving dialogue.
A week ago Hinchas Press started a kickstarter campaign to raise $2,000 to cover the costs of publishing our first book, Jim Heavily's The Bringer of Culture.
Jim's book of poems is a raucous ride through syntax and cognates and words we don't use anymore but totally should resuscitate (words like affect and emendations, et. al.) One of the great things about the book is how it flits from the steppes of a city in Mexico to the backalley compunctions in Metarie, Louisiana. The book is truly a wild ride which makes it a great read, and a book that deserves to be published and in wide rotation.
Jim Heavily also happens to be the Poetry Editor for Hinchas de Poesía, so I also believe in his poems and feel them to be part and parcel of the aesthetic we deploy every time we publish a new issue or try our hand in the publishing racket. Jim is not a Latino and that makes comepletely no difference at all to us because the work is solid. Jim's book is titled after Quetzalcoatl, one of the major deities of the Aztecs, and the one responsible for agriculture, culture, and astronomy.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
THE LOGIC OF FACILITY LAYOUT BY JIM HEAVILY FROM "THE BRINGER OF CULTURE"
This poem is from Jim Heavily's yet to be published, The Bringer of Culture.
The Logic of Facility Layout
by Jim Heavily
The wind & the rains provide all that we need, at least on this
conveyor belt. Maps of international cities taped together &
hung on the wall with push pins, emended & annotated with
sticky notes & gruel, neither conjoined, gerundive, subordinate
or sulcate. T he desert cries out for understanding. T rees &
gazanias list seaward. We upsurge & breech in the fallow moon’s
peach light stretching out to the horizon & the Canary Islands,
throwing nickels & dimes on the dark sea-surge, sparkling on
the wave tops & dorsal fins of night-swimming dolphins, the
better part of ourselves taken from us & borne out to the heart
of the rippling amniotic sea.
The Logic of Facility Layout
by Jim Heavily
The wind & the rains provide all that we need, at least on this
conveyor belt. Maps of international cities taped together &
hung on the wall with push pins, emended & annotated with
sticky notes & gruel, neither conjoined, gerundive, subordinate
or sulcate. T he desert cries out for understanding. T rees &
gazanias list seaward. We upsurge & breech in the fallow moon’s
peach light stretching out to the horizon & the Canary Islands,
throwing nickels & dimes on the dark sea-surge, sparkling on
the wave tops & dorsal fins of night-swimming dolphins, the
better part of ourselves taken from us & borne out to the heart
of the rippling amniotic sea.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Sunday, November 25, 2012
TOMAS RILEY'S "POST CHICANO STRESS DISORDER"
Post Chicano Stress Disorder (Tinta Vox, 2010) by Tomás Riley with images by Ricardo Islas
I don't imagine Tomás Riley’s message in Post Chicano Stress Disorder (Tinta Vox, 2010) to be a decidedly political one; his brand of poetry is political as a matter of existence, rather than of taste or style, "so what is young/ and brown so far a living/ corpse of language?" (33). In Post Chicano Stress Disorder, Riley spits sparse bars cadenced by Hip-Hop Mythology, PoMo's nuanced wordplay, and that threshold where the political becomes the factual. Riley’s book is a manual, bluesy sheet music, and a slowly-gentrifying, inner-city quirófano, simultaneously.
At the height of Reagonomics, Chuck D said, "Rap is C.N.N. for black people," and that operating principle could easily be what drives a poet like Riley to write Post Chicano Stress Disorder. His is a book of poems in which impetus comes not from other forms of poetry per se, but from canonical Hip Hop anthems, like Wu-Tang's "C.R.E.A.M.", and the swag of the blues, "an eloquence/ unflattering as game; the hold the/ note twelve bars and cry a/ little at the end" (39). In this sense, it’s just another mash-up, just another amalgam, hybrid, simply another component in a system; Riley intersperses that hybrid imperative with snippets of displaced narratives, and tectonic descriptions of San Francisco's Mission.
It's also a book of poems in which an experimental litany ("litanias") is also a "record that skips on all four sides." (Imagine what Terminator X could have done with Riley's four-sided record?) Maybe, it's simply a shiteater's pean to the reflective largesse of reconstructed meaning vis-a-vis wordplay; for example, what exactly does Riley mean with the phrase, Post Chicano? Is the contemporary Chicano somehow different than the Chicano that came before him, or is he saying that altogether, Latinos have moved past regional categorization? As Latinos, have we moved past our own selves? Have we enclaved ourselves out of a relevance of existence?
"Conjure," the first poem, reads like an abracadabra for a minority caucus, "say your name right/ be it bold/ or stand up treacherous/ bind myth back to the bone/ take shape again" (1). The invocation in "Conjure" is not only interested in producing magic, there's a playfulness that's evocative and discursive and ultimately sonorous, "drive cedar through the crevice of your accent" (1). At the same time, "Conjure" seeks to salve the wounds the Beauvoirian other might feel, "find protection in the meeting place of moments/ meant to curl the skin right off you" (6).
But, Riley ensures that the ethnic navigation system is not on the blind tourist circuit; in "hip: a sickle moon injunction" Riley has a frank dialogue with Obama in no specific terms, and takes aim at the marketing promises ("Hope" and "Change") made during his candidacy and re-election, "deplorable non-cause/ a mantra so perverse/ produces/podium acceptance speeches"(17). There is plenty of reflexive poetic exposition asking the inconvenient questions and seeking the ugly answers, 'my god," they say, trying to nod/ we wanted/ change"(19).
Moreover, Riley queries the negative forces at work within his community ("breakdown of a / brown on brown remix") (40), as well as the negative forces (gentrification, scapegoatism) that impose themselves and originate outside his community. Possibly what Riley is trying to achieve is to inspire the "best of us" to never "stop/ singing" (40), while at the same time being cognizant of the damage that unchecked ambition (hardheartedness?) can wreak on burgeoning minorities, "whatever violence/ efficiently/ installed us at the verge"(32).
To have grown up during the Cold War, to be a veteran of the Cold War, implies a certain way of looking at minorities, poverty, and U.S. militarization. During the Cold War, the country spent billions on Defense, but the inner cities fell apart as crack cocaine ravaged families and rent communities. During the late 90's those same neighborhoods were gentrified, pushing out long-standing residents for affluent young professionals, "(for Walgreen's and a few condos with insolent/ price tags)". Riley's Post Chicano Stress Disorder deftly captures the landscape of a community in flux and lays bare a foray, a response, and possibly a template for addressing the gentrification and disorientation that has polarized many communities.
This title is perfect for academic libraries wanting to accession collections of contemporary Latino poetry, or are seeking to augment their collections with Latino and African-American poets will definitely find this title of interest. Academic libraries that support programs relating to urban studies, ethnic literature, comparative literature, or even Chicano studies might also find this title of great interest, especially when paired with books by Mike Davis like "Magical Urbanism: Latinos Reinvent the U.S. Big City," Juan Gonzalez’s "Harvest of Empire", or "Eminent Domain" by Justin Petropoulos.
I don't imagine Tomás Riley’s message in Post Chicano Stress Disorder (Tinta Vox, 2010) to be a decidedly political one; his brand of poetry is political as a matter of existence, rather than of taste or style, "so what is young/ and brown so far a living/ corpse of language?" (33). In Post Chicano Stress Disorder, Riley spits sparse bars cadenced by Hip-Hop Mythology, PoMo's nuanced wordplay, and that threshold where the political becomes the factual. Riley’s book is a manual, bluesy sheet music, and a slowly-gentrifying, inner-city quirófano, simultaneously.
At the height of Reagonomics, Chuck D said, "Rap is C.N.N. for black people," and that operating principle could easily be what drives a poet like Riley to write Post Chicano Stress Disorder. His is a book of poems in which impetus comes not from other forms of poetry per se, but from canonical Hip Hop anthems, like Wu-Tang's "C.R.E.A.M.", and the swag of the blues, "an eloquence/ unflattering as game; the hold the/ note twelve bars and cry a/ little at the end" (39). In this sense, it’s just another mash-up, just another amalgam, hybrid, simply another component in a system; Riley intersperses that hybrid imperative with snippets of displaced narratives, and tectonic descriptions of San Francisco's Mission.
It's also a book of poems in which an experimental litany ("litanias") is also a "record that skips on all four sides." (Imagine what Terminator X could have done with Riley's four-sided record?) Maybe, it's simply a shiteater's pean to the reflective largesse of reconstructed meaning vis-a-vis wordplay; for example, what exactly does Riley mean with the phrase, Post Chicano? Is the contemporary Chicano somehow different than the Chicano that came before him, or is he saying that altogether, Latinos have moved past regional categorization? As Latinos, have we moved past our own selves? Have we enclaved ourselves out of a relevance of existence?
"Conjure," the first poem, reads like an abracadabra for a minority caucus, "say your name right/ be it bold/ or stand up treacherous/ bind myth back to the bone/ take shape again" (1). The invocation in "Conjure" is not only interested in producing magic, there's a playfulness that's evocative and discursive and ultimately sonorous, "drive cedar through the crevice of your accent" (1). At the same time, "Conjure" seeks to salve the wounds the Beauvoirian other might feel, "find protection in the meeting place of moments/ meant to curl the skin right off you" (6).
But, Riley ensures that the ethnic navigation system is not on the blind tourist circuit; in "hip: a sickle moon injunction" Riley has a frank dialogue with Obama in no specific terms, and takes aim at the marketing promises ("Hope" and "Change") made during his candidacy and re-election, "deplorable non-cause/ a mantra so perverse/ produces/podium acceptance speeches"(17). There is plenty of reflexive poetic exposition asking the inconvenient questions and seeking the ugly answers, 'my god," they say, trying to nod/ we wanted/ change"(19).
Moreover, Riley queries the negative forces at work within his community ("breakdown of a / brown on brown remix") (40), as well as the negative forces (gentrification, scapegoatism) that impose themselves and originate outside his community. Possibly what Riley is trying to achieve is to inspire the "best of us" to never "stop/ singing" (40), while at the same time being cognizant of the damage that unchecked ambition (hardheartedness?) can wreak on burgeoning minorities, "whatever violence/ efficiently/ installed us at the verge"(32).
To have grown up during the Cold War, to be a veteran of the Cold War, implies a certain way of looking at minorities, poverty, and U.S. militarization. During the Cold War, the country spent billions on Defense, but the inner cities fell apart as crack cocaine ravaged families and rent communities. During the late 90's those same neighborhoods were gentrified, pushing out long-standing residents for affluent young professionals, "(for Walgreen's and a few condos with insolent/ price tags)". Riley's Post Chicano Stress Disorder deftly captures the landscape of a community in flux and lays bare a foray, a response, and possibly a template for addressing the gentrification and disorientation that has polarized many communities.
This title is perfect for academic libraries wanting to accession collections of contemporary Latino poetry, or are seeking to augment their collections with Latino and African-American poets will definitely find this title of interest. Academic libraries that support programs relating to urban studies, ethnic literature, comparative literature, or even Chicano studies might also find this title of great interest, especially when paired with books by Mike Davis like "Magical Urbanism: Latinos Reinvent the U.S. Big City," Juan Gonzalez’s "Harvest of Empire", or "Eminent Domain" by Justin Petropoulos.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
VIDEO SCRIPT FOR KICKSTARTER PROJECT
Hi, my name is Yago Cura, and I am the publisher of Hinchas Press, and the founder of Hinchas de Poesia, the contemporary digital journal of Pan-American writing. I am here today to ask for your assistance in helping Hinchas Press publish Jim Heavily's Bringer of Culture. We reached out to BookMobile for a quote on the suggestion of elena minor, the editor of PALABRA, an amazing magazine out of Los Angeles.
This is Jim's first book, and our first printing. Our Arts Editor, Jennifer Therieau, has layed out Heavily's book in a format that is 5.5 inches wide x 8.5 inches high. The insides are pretty much standard, except that the cover has been nicely conjured by Jennifer's evocative graphic design acumen. The cover is a 4-color cover on 10 pt C1S/white stock with gloss layflat lamination, bleeds, prints one side only.
For 750 copies, Bookmobile's quote is $1,697.26, so let's just call it seventeen hundred or $1,700.00. Now, our kick starter project is asking for $2,000.00 is because we will have to snail mail contributors who donate more than $25.00 a copy of our premiere book. And despite the fact that I will try to get the lower printed matter rate, we imagine that it might take us $2.00 to send a book through the snail mail. Therefore, we can send at least 150 donors a copy of the book, but it will only take 80 people donating 25 for us to reach out $2,000.00 goal.
If we send 80 people a book and the postage is $2.00 then our mail costs shouldn't exceed $160.00, but as we have conscripted Jim to send any person who donates at least $10.00 a signed poem from Bringer of Culture. We imagine it would cost $.45 to send those donors their copy of a poem, and with $140 ($300-160) we could send approximately 311 donors a signed poem.
As you can see, we are just hoping to break even, or not have to dip into our retirement funds, savings accounts, and mattresses (if possible) to bring this wonderful book to light. Furthermore, by allowing Hinchas to publish Jim's book, we not only amplify the roster of American poetry, but we publish the first book of a poet whose time has come.
Please help us to achieve this feat and enter in the publishing racket. Without your help, many small presses like Hinchas will not be able to overcome operations costs and stay afloat or at least solvent. By helping Hinchas you ensure that a healthy cross-section of poetry is available to poets and writers and readers interested in the Pan-American writing.
Thank You
Yago Cura
This is Jim's first book, and our first printing. Our Arts Editor, Jennifer Therieau, has layed out Heavily's book in a format that is 5.5 inches wide x 8.5 inches high. The insides are pretty much standard, except that the cover has been nicely conjured by Jennifer's evocative graphic design acumen. The cover is a 4-color cover on 10 pt C1S/white stock with gloss layflat lamination, bleeds, prints one side only.
For 750 copies, Bookmobile's quote is $1,697.26, so let's just call it seventeen hundred or $1,700.00. Now, our kick starter project is asking for $2,000.00 is because we will have to snail mail contributors who donate more than $25.00 a copy of our premiere book. And despite the fact that I will try to get the lower printed matter rate, we imagine that it might take us $2.00 to send a book through the snail mail. Therefore, we can send at least 150 donors a copy of the book, but it will only take 80 people donating 25 for us to reach out $2,000.00 goal.
If we send 80 people a book and the postage is $2.00 then our mail costs shouldn't exceed $160.00, but as we have conscripted Jim to send any person who donates at least $10.00 a signed poem from Bringer of Culture. We imagine it would cost $.45 to send those donors their copy of a poem, and with $140 ($300-160) we could send approximately 311 donors a signed poem.
As you can see, we are just hoping to break even, or not have to dip into our retirement funds, savings accounts, and mattresses (if possible) to bring this wonderful book to light. Furthermore, by allowing Hinchas to publish Jim's book, we not only amplify the roster of American poetry, but we publish the first book of a poet whose time has come.
Please help us to achieve this feat and enter in the publishing racket. Without your help, many small presses like Hinchas will not be able to overcome operations costs and stay afloat or at least solvent. By helping Hinchas you ensure that a healthy cross-section of poetry is available to poets and writers and readers interested in the Pan-American writing.
Thank You
Yago Cura
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