On Tuesday, When the Homeless Disappeared
Marcos McPeek Villatoro is not afraid to discuss mysteries, truths, or injustices. He has lived them. Poet and novelist, activist and radio personality, Villatoro writes poetry steeped in formalism, free verse, and his own Salvadoran syntax. This new collection is a memoir-in-poems telling how the world appears to a Latin American immigrant. His sense of humanity is intact. He has a family, a job, a life in the States. But the face of the Mayan hero Tekún Umán hangs in his office, and he has "made clear all political positions by standing behind the wooden mask of a dead man."

Villatoro is a writer with a keen political sensibility and a sense of humor besides. After confronting the reader with weighty issues, he pauses to have an encounter with a curandera in a cornfield; to speculate on a visit from extraterrestrials; and to pay tribute to his free-spirited, loose-living Uncle Jack, who "chewed forest mushrooms like a rabbit, / Then howled at a California night / While whispering querida above open thighs." Combining Borgean logic, the grit of Neruda, and a heady dose of Zen, Villatoro offers a primer on how to integrate a history of brutality and injustice with the privilege and comfort of life in America. A final section of poems is presented in Spanish only—a statement of ascendance, a strategy for identity preservation, a gift to the cognoscenti.

Reading On Tuesday, When the Homeless Disappeared may make you shift in your seat—perhaps even toss in your sleep—as you encounter a poignant human voice that is unafraid to speak from the heart.
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On Tuesday, When the Homeless Disappeared
Marcos McPeek Villatoro is not afraid to discuss mysteries, truths, or injustices. He has lived them. Poet and novelist, activist and radio personality, Villatoro writes poetry steeped in formalism, free verse, and his own Salvadoran syntax. This new collection is a memoir-in-poems telling how the world appears to a Latin American immigrant. His sense of humanity is intact. He has a family, a job, a life in the States. But the face of the Mayan hero Tekún Umán hangs in his office, and he has "made clear all political positions by standing behind the wooden mask of a dead man."

Villatoro is a writer with a keen political sensibility and a sense of humor besides. After confronting the reader with weighty issues, he pauses to have an encounter with a curandera in a cornfield; to speculate on a visit from extraterrestrials; and to pay tribute to his free-spirited, loose-living Uncle Jack, who "chewed forest mushrooms like a rabbit, / Then howled at a California night / While whispering querida above open thighs." Combining Borgean logic, the grit of Neruda, and a heady dose of Zen, Villatoro offers a primer on how to integrate a history of brutality and injustice with the privilege and comfort of life in America. A final section of poems is presented in Spanish only—a statement of ascendance, a strategy for identity preservation, a gift to the cognoscenti.

Reading On Tuesday, When the Homeless Disappeared may make you shift in your seat—perhaps even toss in your sleep—as you encounter a poignant human voice that is unafraid to speak from the heart.
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On Tuesday, When the Homeless Disappeared

On Tuesday, When the Homeless Disappeared

by Marcos McPeek Villatoro
On Tuesday, When the Homeless Disappeared

On Tuesday, When the Homeless Disappeared

by Marcos McPeek Villatoro

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Overview

Marcos McPeek Villatoro is not afraid to discuss mysteries, truths, or injustices. He has lived them. Poet and novelist, activist and radio personality, Villatoro writes poetry steeped in formalism, free verse, and his own Salvadoran syntax. This new collection is a memoir-in-poems telling how the world appears to a Latin American immigrant. His sense of humanity is intact. He has a family, a job, a life in the States. But the face of the Mayan hero Tekún Umán hangs in his office, and he has "made clear all political positions by standing behind the wooden mask of a dead man."

Villatoro is a writer with a keen political sensibility and a sense of humor besides. After confronting the reader with weighty issues, he pauses to have an encounter with a curandera in a cornfield; to speculate on a visit from extraterrestrials; and to pay tribute to his free-spirited, loose-living Uncle Jack, who "chewed forest mushrooms like a rabbit, / Then howled at a California night / While whispering querida above open thighs." Combining Borgean logic, the grit of Neruda, and a heady dose of Zen, Villatoro offers a primer on how to integrate a history of brutality and injustice with the privilege and comfort of life in America. A final section of poems is presented in Spanish only—a statement of ascendance, a strategy for identity preservation, a gift to the cognoscenti.

Reading On Tuesday, When the Homeless Disappeared may make you shift in your seat—perhaps even toss in your sleep—as you encounter a poignant human voice that is unafraid to speak from the heart.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780816523900
Publisher: University of Arizona Press
Publication date: 09/01/2004
Series: Camino del Sol
Pages: 88
Product dimensions: 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.27(d)

Table of Contents

Que seas razonable, cabron1
False Memory3
Interpretation5
On Tuesday, When the Homeless Disappeared7
The Odor9
Mask11
Zazen Interruptus13
Meditation15
To Enku17
The Familiar19
The Deer21
El Salvador, 1932-198125
The Scold29
The Holy Spirit of My Uncle's Cojones31
The Snow35
Mother37
Skull Against the World39
The Cough41
Gotcha43
In the Hotel Room45
The Message47
The Landlady49
The Elders51
The Plan57
Mnemotics59
Entablar61
La hija63
Su pierna65
Vera Cruz, Mexico67
Fabiola69
Sin titulo71
Oda a Selena73
Sobreviviendo en Iowa75
La pinata77
Oda a Derrida79
La caceria81
El bisturi83
Oda al catarro85
End It87
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