Juan Felipe Herrera Reads from Half of the World in Light: New and Selected Poems
Beyond Margins Award winner Juan Felipe Herrera reads “[Los chapulines verdes vuelan],” “Children of Space,” and “La Palma,” poems from Half of the World in Light: New and Selected Poems, as part of Crossing Over: The 2009 Beyond Margins Celebration. Read the poems below.
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“[Los chapulines verdes vuelan]”
Los chapulines verdes vuelan
el grillo toca su acordeon
raspan sus cantos en el adobe
los campos brillan
la paja ’sta cortada
los pinos crecen alto
el cedro y el piñon
se mecen
corre el agua del ojo viejo
la mariposa
y el cuervo beben el sol
y rajan el viento
“Fijese señor que ante’ era como si fueramo’
bendecido’ por dio’
se te caia una semilla y crecia una flor
los indio’ y nojotro’ teniamo’ fiesta junto’
bajabamo’ al rio y cojiamo’ pescao’
“Children of Space”
I
On Valencia Street the playground aches. Children float through parking lots riddled with the screams of distant throats. Daughter-hands toss the toy over the clouds; invisible. The mother in apartment G gazes, not inhaling. The father coils the fingers around transparent shoulders in the air. Slowly, they undress. Only the stains of the assassinations remain on their bodies. They do not speak now. They cannot speak. Willingly, they have cut something inside. Vowels bleed across the sheets.
II
They enter windows. They exit through small openings. Even their bones are changing. Soon, they will be unable to walk. The two will end in a stance, nude; one pressed against the toilet towel rack, the mirror speckled with images of rapid hands wet. The other hits each fist against the living room wall: please me/leave me.
III
In the sunlight the children rotate in soundless collisions, beyond the rented
structures
into an infinite system of undecipherable signs.
“La Palma”
In my last love letter—you know,
well, I gave you everything, nothing
was left untouched—my deepest secrets,
if only I could repeat them once more,
I opened up my shirt, this rivet board
you called my Manhood. In one crazed second
I threw it all away & knelt at your feet
by the shore, the ocean pulled me back.
I wanted to walk with you and for once
see you as you see me, touch you as you
touch me, I was ready to listen by your side.
Our shadows would melt into the other,
they would die and a new form would float
along the wind-sands, two as one, and one
as two, a different two would flower,
the enigma pouring down from the sky
would unravel, the blueness of the waters
also, would break into ice, glass, lines
on my hands, everything I had known
disappearing before me, yes, it was me
without you.
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