La Uvalde Dolorosa
Virgen de Guadalupe Altar
See “La Uvalde Dolorosa” and other art by George Yepes on the artist's website.
Tikkun Olam: To Repair the World
La Dolorosa/Virgen de Guadalupe altar in honor of the 21 victims of the Uvalde, Texas, elementary school shooting.
La Uvalde Dolorosa bears the pain of 21 bleeding wounds for the 21 victims: Her Sacred Heart skewered with 7 daggers and 14 large swords piercing her chest and abdomen.
The Uvalde pieta banner is draped across her lap.
La Dolorosa/Virgen de Guadalupe wears the crown of thorns from the crucifixion.
Behind La Dolorosa is her flaming aura of La Virgen de Guadalupe.
La Dolorosa's green cloak of La Virgen de Guadalupe has turned to ultramarine blue with white stars.
Her white gown is marked by the bleeding flow from her Sacred Heart and abdomen to form the red and white stripes of the United States flag.
Above and behind La Dolorosa is the cross of the crucifixion carved into the Uvalde oak tree from the City Seal of Uvalde, Texas.
The 21 Doves above La Dolorosa/Virgen de Guadalupe are the ascending souls of the Uvalde victims.
With the permission of the artist
George Yepes, born in a cross-fire hurricane beneath a meteor shower over Baja, then raised and educated in the crucibles of East Los Angeles, the meteoric double-barrel life of Painter/Muralist, continues to burn beyond the Los Angeles art world. Formed by a hard street life of poverty, and gang violence; this painter not only survived the gang violence of East L.A.’s toughest neighborhoods but he has also risen above and beyond the Chicano genre. Yepes' oeuvre incorporates art and architecture, ethereally beautiful women, world history, religion and literature presented in powerfully charged atmospheres. Self-taught, with a refined renaissance bent; from religious iconography to erotica, George Yepes brings a confidence and knowledge of his craft that calls to mind the great Velasquez and Titian, and the great Mexican Muralists. Imbued with a contemporary street sense, his paintings and murals combine the best of both worlds where bravado meets classical standards.
More on the artist at: http://www.georgeyepes.com/
“Tejanos” and “Jalapeño Smoke”
by Reynaldo George Hinojosa Jr.
the breadth of my blood spans the rio grande, tunneling
every root into earth laid track, veins of cartesian slanted
monasteries praying for safe keeping and return. all love’s
angles need me dry as a bridge across centuries drifting,
drifting along tributaries, my eyes lifting border weight sunk
into lines like dams. god dammed me turn and bound sand
coffin lullabies shrinking miles bordering my measured body.
i crenellate, i bridge too far, moated, i solemnly melt harbors
into ice. brandished masks, graphite flares, long-speared songs
slit cascading tracks i can no longer see. beneath coffins, i river
along drifting castles, monuments laid against footprints and
obelisks turned fountains. too many feet leave dirt to consume
my blood, longing to be a mother for every lost child stuck in
the mouth of my soiled lands, softened under moonlight perils.
my silver edged swards gulp air, grip for supple bodies in side
shore flotillas, clambering shoulders for another damp-
pressed lodged throat stuck from the same people split down
centuries long edges; umbra against moonlight, shaded dark
graphite bursts of genetic lacuna. arbitrary lacunae bodies
speak silence, a generation of silence, no longer listening
to wardens warranting god damned word-spills flooding me,
my river, my heart soaked in tragedy, soaked in sores weeping
my river, my name, my sense of belonging. my body is split in
imaginary sequence, sequins of words cleared out by spectacle
harvesters and mage icons. harvest my image, my name, my soil
forgotten to cowboys, forget vaqueros, lassoed my last memory
buried in the sand, in the clay, in oil stuck in the throat of nations.
image iconoclasts barrel for barrel, priced, stocked, laminated to
touch, touch towered drill rigs silting my soil, my violent soil sold
and sunk beneath static statues and markers covered with moss, for-
gotten and left to wonder. i was born here hundreds of years ago,
but can’t remember why. when can i reduce the root to a seed? of all
the memories i carry across my body, i recall mesquite bean pods
indifferently, discarding yellow-tanned honey as nothing more
than a forgotten name. cabeza de pozo is only a myth to my hands,
to my lungs, my hands no longer carry generations of silence, my body
is already filled. i’ve eaten my share, drank the rio grande, subsumed
what is left, whispers still fill my cup—branch from the river, branch
from my throat, branch the sky, branched in solitude separate stilled
and stolen loose soil saved for savagery. i am witness to its reflection still
standing in tides grown from my blood. my blood is a memory i sift through,
speaking its name along the camino real. upwards, norteño, ever upwards
to heaven’s song: sol, my sol, my soil, my name buried deep within the soil.
my mother burns jalapeños on the comal
choking me with centuries long memories
its sharp-sticks saturate the air like a mist
body full, expanding corners in my lips and nostrils
the piercing plates lap up my tongue
feeding me memorials of earth
verde encerrado en una coma
hooked, lined like mexico
jealous of my mouth
that still speaks
its blister berry song lulls fire
torched-heart and fireworked
i remember the dreary fumes
steeling my name
cutting through my throat
capturing my voice alive
carving out the well’s swollen gland
speaking, speaking the spanish name
el lamento, razed buds steamed in effigy
torched-bust hammer-filled balloons
pyrrhic tastes, burn-swelled sweat
the arch of its name sinks like a submarine
rises like a whale
splashes long rivers we call home
el lamento, for loose soil
it levels me in ancient serenity
fusing its long root in my veins
mi raza es contigo, cuaresmeño, fat with liquid blister
circular spirit in the house that never leaves me
troubadour of the flamed-tongued vineyard
dragging me to the root
hardened es posible con suave
la muerte es tu clave
to the scorched light
burn-scarred across the shipless sail
heart-driven and anchored in me
mirrored to the centuries long current
buried in the light of my mother’s cooking
smoke-washed dream of my north star
searing every word for home
the earth still recognizes me
its fruits still hold my name
Reynaldo George Hinojosa Jr. is a Tejano-born writer and musician. He acquired his MFA in Creative Writing and Bachelor’s in Liberal Arts from the University of Texas at El Paso, and an Associate’s in Music from San Antonio College. Since arriving in Michigan, Reynaldo helped build, and currently helps run, the bookstore cooperative Book Suey. He is a 2022-2024 Lead Teaching Artist Fellow with Inside Out Literary Arts. He lives with his son, partner, and two cats in Hamtramck.
This photo is of the Mireles family men who were vaqueros in South Texas. Third from the right, front row is the patriarch, Julio Samudío Mireles, my great, great, grandfather who was born in 1830. Next to him on the right are his son-in-law Dario Talamántez and his son. He also had 5 daughters with his wife María Francisca Silva, known as "Mama Kika."
Two recent poems by René have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and one other for the Best of the Net competitions for 2020.
Born in San Antonio, he now lives in New York City, a noted Chicano poet and multi-talented musician. He is the product of a legacy fashioned by Galván’s
Sarah Cortez is a Councilor of the Texas Institute of Letters and Fellow of the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts. Winner of the PEN Texas Literary Award, she has placed finalist in the Writers’ League of Texas awards and the PEN Southwest Poetry Awards. She has won the Southwest Book Award, multiple International Latino Book Awards, and the Skipping Stones Honor Award. Sarah edited Vanishing Points: Poems and Photographs of Texas Roadside Memorials (Texas Review Press, 2016) with original poems by Larry D. Thomas, Jack B. Bedell, Sarah Cortez, and Loueva Smith. Its driving force has been the photography of roadside memorials taken over a ten-year period in the San Antonio-Austin area by Dan Streck.
Dia De Los Muertos
Ecology / Environment
Farmworker Rights / Agricultural Work / Labor Rights Issues
Indigenous / American Indian / Native American / First Nations / First People
Puerto Rican Disapora
Spanish And English