Literary El Paso

Ricardo S

195 Ricardo Sánchez Poet, activist and academic Ricardo Sánchez (1941-1995) was born and raised in El Paso. His writing, which uses a blend of idiomatic phrases of English and Spanish known as caló, is influenced by his early years as part of the pachuco subculture of the Barrio del Diablo. Joining the army after dropping out of high school, Sánchez earned entrance into officer candidate school, but a series of events and tragedies led to self-destructive behavior that resulted in two prison terms for armed robbery. While incarcerated, Sánchez used that time to write and became a librarian and teacher. After he was paroled in Texas, he earned a high school equivalency certificate while his writings were already being anthologized and published. In 1969, Sánchez received a Frederick Douglass Fellowship in Journalism to write for an African American newspaper in Richmond, Virginia. With only a GED he was employed as a staff writer and humanities instructor at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst. He founded Míctla Publications in 1971 with the mission of publishing the works of Chicano writers who were ignored by mainstream publishers. When his first book Canto y grito mi liberación, an important work defining the Mexican American experience, originally published by Míctla, was published again by Anchor Books, Doubleday, in 1973, he received national attention. The recipient of several Ford Foundation grants, he earned his Ph.D. in American studies and cultural linguistic theory from the Union Graduate School, Antioch College. In his academic career, he was a professor at El Paso Community College, the University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee, the University of Alaska, and the University of Utah ethnic studies center. He became a full professor at Washington State University in the English department and the department of comparative cultures. Ricardo Sánchez is the author of The Loves of Ricardo; Bertrand & The Mehkqoverse: A XicaAno Filmic Nuance; Selected Poems; Amsterdam Cantos; Perdido; Brown Bear Honey Madnesses: Alaska Cruising Poems; Milhuas Blues; Gritos Nortenos; and HECHIZOspells. Widely anthologized, Sánchez is also the subject of the recent book Timespace: The Poetry and Politics of Ricardo Sánchez. His writing gave voice to a Chicano perspective of the world and the dynamics of living on the border. 196 From The Loves of Ricardo: “fragrance petals its presence . . .” June 30, 1977 L Chukosburgo, Te(de)jaslum cabulat/sufiteotls “fragrance petals its presence . . .” I. fragrance petals its presence onto realization; love is that which permeates life with meaning… II. you slide almost quiveringly into my arms, your heated aroma engulfs me, you blossom, woman, while liquidly devouring my tongue, time cannot exist while 197 we pulsate— one within the other, your breathing is quick and then slow, builds up and implodes while my essence explodes inside you, each time is new, each time a rebirth, ay, yes, you loosen up then clasp me, your eyes dilate as sexuality becomes another shaking of our earthiness. III. streets filled with swaying people proud women dance before my gaze, all their womanliness glides palatably before my vision; veils of hunger dissolve while mentally/spiritually 198 sexual games promenade within, no reservations hide within thoughtfeelings, only awareness of movement and what movement can portend . . . H From Selected Poems: Fridays Belong to Friends, Sometimes trío de locos in juárez bistros, drinking/listening to mariachis. Fridays Belong to Friends, Sometimes fridays belong to friends, sometimes, when Horacio “Chacho” Minjárez, Rafa “Chafa” Aguirre and I can galavant all night from cantina to cantina, jiving with the pimps as they shout: “Say, can you spare a messican minute, fellows and I’ll take you to see the girls,” and his mouth opens in surprise as one of us shouts back jivingly, 199 “No, ese, we want to see the boys, damn the girls,” and we walk/saunter laughingly up different streets, stopping with don cojón-chon, buy little french rolls, sliced in half and stuffed with avocado, mexican cheese, jalapeños and a dash of salt, and we continue in our camaraderie walking up juárez avenue to carlos or the manhattan or the san luis to hear mariachis and shout, all the time eating tortas, winking at the women, alluding to ourselves as being non-tourists in this city on the border. we enter the manhattan, and mariachis serenade us...