Coretta, Coretta!


Coretta Coretta

            pioneering is never easy, but you

eased the way.

           Eased the way as half a leader,

Dr. King.

           Like an unwanted bullet, loosed from the chamber

Your effort also landed powerfully.


Coretta, Coretta

          You sang to liberate oppressed people

but, you liberated all people.

           A vibrato in church, mid -speech

Let freedom ring

           freed at last.


Coretta Coretta

           we’ve united to form a solid block against racism, poverty, and war

the stone slabs in a broken heart are unscalable.

           Coretta we ain’t won the war yet.

Coretta, Coretta Scott King.

           Pioneering is never easy,

though you took the reins.

           You took us through mourning.

You took us with Dr. King.

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100 Thousand Poets, Artists, and Musicians for Change Event, SATX


100 Thousand Poets, Artists, and Musicians for Change Event, SATX

Viktoria Valenzuela and Gemini Ink are pleased to host 100 Thousand Poets for Change founders, Michael Rothenberg and Terri Carrion on Sunday Feb. 17th, 2013! 3pm-6pm. Come for the live music and selected artists, stay for Poet On Watch from Austin as well as the open mic poets!

*Flier design by Will Bermudez of Willpowered Studios —

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February 11, 2013 · 8:35 pm

Off Spring

The sparrow knows to carry summer through

I’d bought raspas from a vendor on Zarzamora St.

another damned car commercial bellows about not being undersold

My heart breaks at the high cost of living.

A pecan tree canopy armors us from a scathing Sunday

Sweetly, tiger’s blood quenches our thirst and salted lust simultaneously

A made for TV movie draws us in for the kill. Still

we have all the fun.

May is half schematics, half slumber.

The natural nectar of fruit and ice on a hot day.

She is characterized as troubled and vulnerable against economics but

the frugality of a mother’s embrace is forever.

Partly cloudy sunshine still streams in the windows here

The raspas melt while we eat them.

Law and Order chimes in time to a child sitting upright

she sips the juice, laughing.

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San Antonio Call for submissions by Viktoria Valenzuela

I am very proud to announce that I have the distinct honor of curating a “San Antonio Feature” of art and poetry for the world-renowned digital magazine, Big Bridge.  Those works selected will be published for one year then archived.

San Antonio artists and poets ONLY will be considered for publication.  Please send 10 of your most current works for consideration to:



  • Artist/ Author photo
  • One Bio of no more than ten lines.
  • One high quality images of each piece with full title on each image.
  • Artist’s statement must also include title of each piece with explanation of media, concept, and series title if any.
  • Author’s statement should include any previous publications.
  • No work (writings nor art) may have been previously published.

Deadline for submissions is February 20, 2013!


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January 7, 2013 · 9:35 pm

Ash Wednesday

Ash Wednesday

A solemn expression before we enter
Catholic Mass.

Slip a skinny finger
into the golden bowl at the door.

Take water with you
and bow before Jesus.

One knee strikes the red carpet.
Just like Gramma showed you to.


Our finger touches
the head,
right then, left shoulder.

A kiss for a thumb
crossed over.

There is a place next to Gramma waiting

Kneeling and whispering in Spanish
She sounds stronger than ever

More serious than
when she asked me limpa la casa.

Clasped are her hands,
a white rosary between them.

A black lace mantilla
covers her silver hair-

four flames burn blue
for Grampa and three of her children gone.

The head and heart of her life.

She touches a finger to
her head
right then left shoulder.

A kiss for a thumb
crossed over.

Gramma looked to the Priest,
her hands sit still in her lap.

Her posture does not slant,
she is radiant

as we stand
and receive repentance.

We’ll follow Gramma up there,
She is

crossed over
with ashes of yesteryear’s palm fronds.

As a solemn society,
we are the heart

from here to

until the cross over
on Ash Wednesday.

Rest in peace, Juanita Gonzales Valenzuela

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November 20, 2012 · 7:59 pm

Somewhere a baby is crying…

The earth knows me.

She gives me pecans and mangoes and onions

The birth of my own children

is what I give back.


My children walk here.

barefoot, brown-skinned, and thirsty.

A river runs through here;

cool water springs forth.




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Filed under Chicana Mother, Nonfiction, Poetry

For All That You Held (in memory of Misty Prestwich)

Misty Joann Marie Prestwich (9/26/1945 - 9/8/2011)

For All That You Held


Family, children, friends,

and storytellers

hold hands

to re-tell your history.


Many have faces

that resemble yours;

from every age

you ever were.


I remember

the rasp to your voice,

the reassuring pat

of your hand on mine.


Every burden

you lovingly shouldered

lightened the struggle

for the next.


Like paper dolls,

you held my hand,

so I could hold

the rest…


Your table is where

I came to;

where I dreamt and grew into

the me you knew I could be.


Kind mother,

dear friend, my personal historian,

from here into infinity,

you knew me so well.


Longing for

some comfort


this glowering loss,


my hands remember

the flicker of a pat…

and keep alive

your kindness.



memory holds

each storytelling

in the hand of the next.



~by Viktoria Valenzuela








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