This volume of Espada's poetry offers some selections from previous works, as well as some absolutely stunning new poems. Espada's poems are no less than an attempt to bridge the chasm between identity and humanity, to find in the everyday struggles of working-class Latino/a people the common dreams of all of us for a sense of belonging and a longing for justice.

The title poem is a reflection on 9/11 and its consequences. Espada praises ("alabanza"="praise") the 43 restaurant workers at Windows on the World who perished in the tragedy. The respect he has for these human beings and for all of us in a post-9/11 world is both humbling and empowering. This is how we begin our healing. This is how we begin building a better world.

I love romantic and majestic poems, which is why I hadn't anticipated liking this particular collection of poetry, for it deals with urban political themes. However, City of Coughing and Dead Radiators is a true masterpiece. Martin Espada has put together a collection of poems that deal with the harsh realities of being raised in the "ghetto," with an ironic twist. I love "Cockroaches of Liberation" -- truly one of the best pieces of poetry ever written. With unflinching honesty and elegant prose, Espada has created an ingenious piece of work. I am duly impressed with this book...

Since 1975, Curbstone Press has published works by a most unique group of writers: political activists, revolutionaries, guerrilla combatants, as well as ordinary working people, from the U.S., Latin America, and throughout the world. What all share is an affinity for that place "where art and politics intersect." Unique among poetry anthologies, POETRY LIKE BREAD contains works by poets whose imaginations are political. These are poets whose works are united in a desire for a world where human needs are met and justice is pursued.

"POETRY LIKE BREAD is an engrossing, readable, and highly passionate poetry anthology...It gives us poetry that sustains, that nourishes, and that is available to all." --Poetry Flash

"These works demonstrate with eloquence that the task of poetry-and all literature-is to challenge us, to illuminate our world and our lives, to force us to examine that which we take for granted and to act in solidarity for something new, to 'give name to the nameless so it can be thought.'" --The Nation

"...engrossing, readable, and highly passionate poetry." --Bloomsbury Review

"In language that is always surprising and never didactic, the poems both celebrate and condemn, instruct and honor." --San Francisco Chronicle Review

"Astonishingly bold young poet." --The New York Times Book Review

"Without ever relying on abstractions such as 'racism' or 'poverty', [Marín Espada] brings the reader face to face with these conditions by showing us the human tissue these terms so often mask." --Bloomsbury Review

Zapata's Disciple is a collection of short essays and poetry by Martin Espada, whom I consider the greatest Latino poet writing today. His poetry is insightful, politically unrelenting; anger tempered with the love that only one so connected to his roots and community can articulate. Espada's tribute to Mumia will move you to tears. His images are powerful and his message is the most relevant writing of our times. A must for your library.

Espada's Imagine the Angels of Bread is an incredible collection of poetry in which Espada protests social inequalities by depicting the Puerto Rican subaltern with graphic bluntness but uncompromised dignity. In addition, Espada's straight-forward tone and sensual imagery convey a raw pleasure in the Puerto Rican American experience. Espada's portrayal of injustice, told with an underlying sharp sarcastic humor raises social and political questions while voicing the poverty and anonymity of a marginalized social class. Espada's poems provide narratives of a voiceless class, critiquing an elitist society which oftentimes overlooks the significance of such stories. In this way, Espada provides a class which society oftentimes marginalizes to the point of invisibility with a voice that is both accusatory and visionary.
The brutal and violent imagery intermingled with straightforward narrative depicts controversial political and social issues with a sharp wit and startling poignancy. "Sing in the Voice of a God Even Atheists Can Hear," a poem addressing the arrest of poet Demetria Martinez for poetry allegedly illustrating her support of illegal immigrants, provides a blunt and stinging social commentary through its imagery and tone: "The prosecutor spoke 'smuggling' as if two pregnant refugees were bundles of heroin, not fleeing a war of slit bellies. . ."
However, the true power and gift of Espada's work lies in his ability not to condense complex social situations into abrupt, everyday language, but rather his ability to transform the grotesqueness of everyday. Consequently, the author's voice is not limited to being accusatory, but rather attains a transcendent prophetic significance. In one of the collection's final poems, "Because Clemente Means Merciful," Espada depicts the birth and uncertain future of his young son. Although Espada does initially provide a sharp critique of society in his portrayal of the medical society treating his son, "the pediatrician who never called, the yawning intern, the hospital roommate's father from Guatemala, ignored by the doctors," the poem closes on a note of hope. The speaker is able to transcend a lack of resources and understands the significance of his son's emergence from sickness. Although his accusatory tone acknowledges a continued future of inequality, "I know someday you'll stand beside the Guatemalan fathers, speak in the tongue of all the shunned faces," the speaker ends on a powerful divine message of hope, "[You will] breathe in a music we have never heard, and live by the meaning of your name."

In this politically-charged, often raw collection, Espada presents a distinctly ethnic poetry which exposes the plight of the Latino in America. Despite its positive project, Espada occasionally stumbles on his own aggressive nature; the political outshines the poetic. This aggressive politicizing, in fact, often hurts his project, as the reduction of poetics many times ends up reducing his politics to simple sloganeering. Espada, despite my reservations, is still a poet worth investigating, as he often does allow the personal and the poetic to supercede his poltiticking. In fact, it is in these cases where his politics truly shine and the project of elevating the Latino peoples seems to take off. In cases such as this, where the personal allows the reader, especially those not as familiar with the Latino situation in America (such as myself), to enter into a dialogue with his work, Espada's project reaches the very audience whom he at times seems to be struggling against. This struggle, in fact, may very well be what causes the diminution of his poetry which I discussed earlier; Espada, fearful of making concessions to the majority and thus alienating his Latino audience or, worse, devaluing his political project, deliberately sabotages many of the works in this collection. Such a harsh atmosphere is created for the non-Latino through such violent political and poetic upheaval, that the gems to be found are often missed. However, this collection, though challenging, does lead to a good deal of reward, so long as one has the fortitude and foresight to sift through some of its more didactic pieces.

Martin Espada is an angel. Martin Espada is a messenger. Martin Espada is a poet who will not be silenced. Imagine the Angels of Bread, Espada's most recent work, reveals his immutable message of social responsibility, a message that the Puerto-Rican declamador (poet of the people) proclaims vehemently, even harshly at times, because he can, because he lives it himself each day. Espada begins his poem "Imagine the Angels of Bread", the first in his book by the same name, insisting that "This is the year that squatters evict landlords." And here, in a single line, Espada's pen makes us squirm. By using words like "blood-slick beast" and "pesticide fog", Espada creates real poetry, poetry whose beauty is not found in the flowery language of metaphor and abstraction but, instead, in the unveiling of the ugliness and banality surrounding us. This Puerto-Rican's poetry is hard, gritty even; its beauty is found precisely in the harsh truths and grim realities that he forces us to see, to really see. Indeed, the verse of this lawyer-turned-poet arrests us; it is impossible to read Espada's openly political poetry and not feel him prodding us, stiffly and unmistakably, toward action. Espada wants nothing more than for his emotionally charged, political poems to make us writhe with a discomfort so great that we cannot be still until we have changed the world. Martin Espada writes poems to remember those same people that many would like to forget-the "dark-skinned men," the "squatters," the people on food stamps, and the "shawled refugees." He speaks on their behalf, and says, with confidence, what we all know to be true, "this is not okay."

As one of the poets featured in Will Work for Peace, one might expect me to be a bit biased, but nothing could be farther from the truth. Most poets work in a virtual vacuum, only tenuously connected to each other by the occasional workshop or shared membership in a 'poetry society'. When Brett Axel first approached me for a submission to an anthology he was considering, the names Marge Piercy, Lyn Lifshin, Moshe Bennaroch and so many others were abstractions to me as a fledgling poet. I knew these tremendous writers were 'out there' somewhere, beating down doors with their words and keeping a struggling artform alive. But to think that someday I would ever share a credit with these dynamic modern poets would be a pipe dream at best. It is through the sincere efforts of Brett Axel that many newer voices like mine have an extraordinary opportunity to appear with Pulitzer Prize winners and other poetic heavyweights. By way of an honest review, however, I will say this- not everything in this book will be to your particular liking. I myself came across some works that did not move me in the way the author may have intended. Some imagery can be raw and visceral, using shock value in place of craft at times. But to ignore those voices would be an even more shocking turn of events, so praise be to the editor for not sacrificing his vision to a senseless conformity. As Pete Seeger so aptly put it in his quote, trying to read all these poems at one time would be like trying 'to swallow Manhattan whole'. I say to you- buy this book, read this book, but understand that it's what you do after reading this book that will ultimately define who you could be. Poetry is alive and well, and lives in the blunt pages of Will Work for Peace.

Brett Axel visited my Church and I bought a copy of Will Work For Peace from him, not for poetry, but because I care about working for peace. I started reading through it thinking It'd just go on my shelf and that'd be the end of it, but the book grabbed me and kept me rivited. If I had known that poetry was this alive I'd have been into poetry. I've been reading some of the poems to my friends who also didn't think poetry was important and they are saying the same thing. Fantastic! There's no way to get through this book without having your old mindsets challenged. It's funny, powerful, sad, and uplifting. A book that deserves to be read by everyone. A book that really can make the world a better place!

Just amazing start to finish! I like the disregard for fame used in putting the book together. That great poems got in even if they were writtenby nobodys. Look at Roger Bonair-Agard's poem on page 74. Shortly after Will Work For Peace came out he won Slam Nationals, becoming Slam Champion of 1999, which will be getting him lots of offers. But Zeropanik Press didn't need to be told he was good by an award. They could tell by his writing! Good for them and good for all of us because Will Work For Peace is a literary milestone. It's a new standard for all future anthology editors to try to live up to. Thumbs up to Brett Axel and Thumbs up to Zeropanik Press for their guts and integrty.

A MAYAN ASTRONOMER IN HELL'S KITCHEN by Martín Espada

A Mayan Astronomer in Hell's Kitchen is the title of Martín Espada's new book. The title reflects the cultural and linguistic mix in which Espada lives, shuttling from his Puerto Rican heritage to Old Guard Connecticut.

The book begins in Puerto Rico with the poet's relatives. These include a dying grandmother and a cousin whose stock of miracle cookware fails to heat the family dinner. About his father in Brooklyn, the poet writes:

Sometimes I dream

my father is a guitar,

with a hole in his chest

where the music throbs

between my fingers

("My Father as a Guitar")

Espada also writes about a magically real politician ("The Governor of Puerto Rico Reveals at His Inaugural That He Is The Reincarnation of Ponce de Leon") and the mixture of foreign birds in a luxury hotel in San Juan:

The White cockatoo from Australia

twirls tricks with a hostess

. . .

the scarlet macaw of Brazil

yammers a joke about pina coladas

. . .

the peacock of India

skitters around the koi pond

. . .

the frostbitten turkey from North Carolina

thaws in the kitchen

("Ornithology at the Caribe Hilton")

These poems range from the deadly serious to the comic. "The Carpenter Swam to Spain" is about the Spanish Civil War and "The River Will Not Testify" is about a Colonial massacre of Indians. Espada also speaks about the Rosenbergs and Mumia Abu-Jamal. Other poems can make you laugh out loud such as "Anarchism and the Parking Meter" and "Why I Went to College":

If you don't,

my father said,

you better learn

to eat soup

through a straw

cause I'm gonna

break your jaw.

The book's best combination of social commentary and humor, as well as the most intense cultural conflict, occurs in Connnecticut where Espada's in-laws have been resident since 1680. At Thanksgiving, he silently compares the New England fare to the "turkey with arroz y habichuelos and plátanos" he grew up with. Later, his father-in-law hauls out a small cannon and fires it at some old tombstones; "This way, if I hit anybody, / they're already dead." The poet concludes: "When the first / drunken Pilgrim dragged out the cannon at the first Thanksgiving - / that's when the Indians left." ("Thanksgiving"). With humor, Espada compares the father-in-law's lack of value for his cultural heritage with the poet's own sense of the past.

Espada has serious things to say, but he is not preaching. His language is direct and pulls the reader along through images of both personal and political history. This book shows that Mr. Espada is a mature poet who continues to offer readers a great variety.

Martin Espada's tumultous language rushes forward in this unforgettable sixth collection of firey work: white heat surrounded by the cooler, blue streaks of history. Rather than hold a mirror up to the broken time-barrier of his people's seemingly eternal struggle, he captures it by the hair of its head and drags it onto the page where it still lives, thrashing. Emotive and layered with textural surreal images, his words continue to carry the torch through the subterranean tunnels of fresh consciousness, where the shadows first cast by Neruda still dance. He is a worthy carrier of that kind of genuine magic. His is a poetry of sharp blades that cuts through the toughest-rooted dream territory, as we see in "The Shiny Aluminum of God:" "The scar carves her husband's forehead/ where the doctors scooped the tumor out,/ where cancer cells scramble like a fistful of ants." No other present-day Mayan, or present-day prophet, for that matter, writes with such warp and texture. Warning: the poet talks texture at the table: the communion table of collective consciousness. Because he seems to hear more and see more than other spiritual chroniclers, his readers can be with "the preacher who first heard the savior's voice/ bleeding through the plaster of the jailhouse." He is one who has a gift to let the blood speak-- to let the truth seep through. The title is appropriate; he may well chart the stars of the past and future, and his poems are our hotline to his vision in Hell's Kitchen. Espada never shies away from the drama of his subject matter. Each poem is loaded with the special energy that only he can impart. The message is usually violent, requiring a sizeable talent which has yet to let us down.