International Studies in Honor of Tomás Rivera

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Arte Publico Press, 1986 - 198 ˹

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I
7
II
15
III
17
IV
19
VI
24
VII
26
IX
30
X
39
XVI
96
XVII
107
XVIII
109
XIX
121
XX
137
XXI
148
XXIII
163
XXIV
173

XI
53
XII
66
XIII
81
XV
90
XXVI
193
XXVII
194
XXVIII
196
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Ѻ - ٷ

շ辺

˹ 115 - At school they say my name funny as if the syllables were made out of tin and hurt the roof of your mouth. But in Spanish my name is made out of a softer something like silver, not quite as thick as sister's name Magdalena which is uglier than mine.
˹ 43 - Deeds which populate the dimensions of space and which reach their end when someone dies may cause us wonderment, but one thing, or an infinite number of things, dies in every final agony, unless there is a universal memory as the theosophists have conjectured.
˹ 115 - I would like to baptize myself under a new name, a name more like the real me, the one nobody sees. Esperanza as Lisandra or Maritza or Zeze the X. Yes. Something like Zeze the X will do.
˹ 115 - In English my name means hope. In Spanish it means too many letters. It means sadness, it means waiting. It is like the number nine. A muddy color. It is the Mexican records my father plays on Sunday mornings when he is shaving, songs like sobbing. It was my great-grandmother's name and now it is mine. She was a horse woman too, born like me in the Chinese year of the horse which is supposed to be bad luck if you're born female but I think this is a Chinese lie because the Chinese, like the...
˹ 116 - They all lied. All the books and magazines, everything that told it wrong. Only his dirty fingernails against my skin, only his sour smell again.
˹ 68 - s what I needed to do, hide, so that I could come to understand a lot of things. From now on, all I have to do is to come here, in the dark, and think about them. And I have so much to think about and I'm missing so many years. I think today what I wanted to do was recall this past year. And that 's just one year.
˹ 116 - Everything is holding its breath inside me. Everything is waiting to explode like Christmas. I want to be all new and shiny. I want to sit out bad at night, a boy around my neck and the wind under my skirt.
˹ 117 - They will not know I have gone away to come back. For the ones I left behind. For the ones who cannot out.
˹ 181 - His death was an insult porque no murio en accion no lo mataron los vatos, ni los gooks en Korea. He died alone in a rented room perhaps like in a Bogard movie.

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