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ARISE, CHICANO! In your migrant’s world of hand-to-mouth days, your children go smileless to a cold bed; the bare walls rockaby the same wry song, a ragged dirge, thin as the air… I have seen you go down under the shrewd heel of exploit your long suns of brutal sweat with ignoble pittance crowned. Trapped in the never-ending fields where you stoop, dreaming of sweeter dawns, while the mocking whip of slavehood confiscates your moment of reverie. Or beneath the starsoffended by your rude songs of rebellion when, at last, you shroud your dreams and with them, your hymn of hope. Thus a bitterness in your life: wherever you turn for solace there is an embargo. How to express your anguish when not even your burning words are yours, they are borrowed from the festering barrios of poverty, and the sadness in your,eyes only reflects the mute pain of your people. Arise Chicano!that divine spark within you surely saysWash your wounds and swathe your agonies. There is no one to succor you. You must be your own messiah. THE FINAL LAUGH On an empty stomach, with the pang of mendicant yesterdays, I greet my reflection in the dark mirror of dusk. What do the entrails know about the necessity of being white the advisability of mail-order parents? Or this wearing in mock defiance the thin rag of ethnic pride, saying to shivering flesh and grumbling belly: Patience, 0 companions of my dignity? Perhaps someday I shall accustom myself to this: my hand held out in eternal supplication, being content with the left-overs of a greedy establishment. Orwho knows?perhaps tomorrow I shall burst these shackles and rising to my natural full height fling the final parting laugh O gluttonous omnipotent alien white world. \(This poem received the Diploma Di Benemerenza The Guadalupe Cultural Arts Center in San Antonio will host an evening tribute to Angela de Hoyos on Saturday, January 9, starting at 6:30 p.m. This free event will feature an exhibit of de Hoyos’ artwork, books and magazines she wrote or published, an altar de palabras, and an evening of readings and tributes. There will also be a video booth to record memories and stories about de Hoyos. The Center is located at 1300 Guadalupe Street, San Antonio. spirits to many young writers. A creator of community, she loved celebrating and commemorating things. When a new book was published or a play debuted at the Guadalupe Theater, she’d throw a party. Around her house \(to this decorated and hand-printed by writers, playwrights and actors. Not many people think of mixing cement when they host a party. At her funeral, I mentioned the stones, and half the room grinned. A pithier poet than most, she had a delicious wit as well. When I mentioned that she had named one of the calves on her ranchito for my daughter Brigid, the young poet Sheila Sanchez Hatch told how Angela had named a cow after her, too. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the same cow. My best memories of Angela seem to be set mostly in the middle of the night. She and her husband Moises kept late hours. When I was editing Vortex: A Critical Review, we set the type on Moises’ Photocomp machine. It had so many light leaks that it was practically wrapped in duct tape, so working at night made an odd kind of sense. Angela was always there with cookies, a new drawing, a new poem, encouraging words and a keen editorial eye. We often ended those evenings with a midnight cup of Angela’s hot chocolate, mixing poetry and science, politics and stories. Like the rest of humanity, writers with international reputations are a mixed bag of horse’s asses, cactus egos and occasional saints. I’ve rarely known one who came so close to being just plain human. Bryce Milligan is an author and the publisher-editor of Wings Press in San Antonio. He worked closely with de Hoyos for many years. DECEMBER 11, 2009 TEXASOBSERVER.ORG 29