This collection of poetry is like a mirrored column, showing the facets of Aragon's history and passions, his English life, or life-in-English, and his life-in-Spanish, which is home and family, his Nicaraguan parents, his growing up in the Mission district of San Francisco, and his deep affinity for Nicaraguan poet Ruben Dario, also gay, whose affair with another poet the latter denied after Dario's death. There is history, there is politics, our historical moment expressed as clarity.
Aragon is a generous and somewhat self-effacing poet--we rarely see the "I" in these poems, but we feel the speaker. There are poems for his father, for his mother, poems for and "with" other poets--collaborations and tributes, as well as, in an appendix, ten poems by Ruben Dario., who we learn was Aragon's mother's favorite poet. An essay, My Ruben, towards the back of the book, was interestingly positioned, as we read the poems before this more grounding information--which naturally propelled me back through the book again.
1985
Long and black, the streaks
of gray, aflutter in the light
wind as she prepares to tell
her story at the Federal Building:
reaching into a tattered sack
she pulls out a doll...
missing an eye, balding--
snagged face smudged with soot
from the smoke her home took in
as her village was being shelled.
Next she retrieves what's left
of a book--a few pages...
she raises one, starts to read aloud:
por la mañana sube el sol y clienta el día
la tierra nos da donde vivir y que comer
la vaca nos da leche para beber y hacer mantequilla.
It's her daughter's lesson
the poem she read to her
the day they struck...."