AN ANTHOLOGY BY 826NYC STUDENTS AT THE BRONX ACADEMY FOR SOFTWARE ENGINEERING
OUR WORLDVIEW: WE ARE WHO WE ARE
An Anthology by 826NYC Students at the Bronx Academy for Software Engineering
826NYC Books 372 Fifth Avenue Brooklyn, NY 11215 Our Worldview: We Are Who We Are, An Anthology by 826NYC Students at the Bronx Academy for Software Engineering © 2022 by 826NYC and the authors. All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. First 826NYC edition February 2022 Manufactured in the United States of Brooklyn 978-1-948644-87-7 The writing in this book was produced in the 2021-2022 school year at 826NYC’s Young Writers Publish project at the Bronx Academy for Software Engineering. The classes were run by Daniel Jackson with the support of Louis Reed and Nikita Patel, as well as 826NYC writing mentors Dov Alpert, Arrianne Bautista, Olivia Ensley, Susan Evans, and Holly Settoon. Designed by Adi Kwiatek Cover art by Adi Kwiatek and Jerald Parten Edited and proofread by Rakhee Bhatt, Kora Fillet, Tiana Moe, Dave Rublin, Carly Schnitzler, Lauren Stefaniak, Alyssa Thibodeau, and Stephanie Whetstone. Printed by Bookmobile This program is supported, in part, by public funds from the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs in partnership with the City Council, The Jane Friedman Anspach Family Foundation, The Find Your Light Foundation, The Hawkins Foundation, The Rona Jaffe Foundation, The Kettering Family Foundation, The Minerva Foundation, The Pinkerton Foundation, The Resnick Family Foundation, and Youth, Inc. The program is also made possible by the New York State Council on the Arts with the support of Governor Kathy Hochul and the New York State Legislature. Additional support comes from the National Endowment for the Arts. To find out more about how National Endowment for the Arts grants impact individuals and communities, visit www.arts.gov. 826NYC is grateful to the many individuals who support our work. To see our full list of supporters or make a donation, please visit https://826nyc.org/donate-us/.
826NYC is a nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting students ages six to eighteen with their creative and expository writing skills and to helping teachers inspire their students to write. Our services are structured around our belief that great leaps in learning can happen with one-on-one attention and that strong writing skills are fundamental to future success.
This book is intended for mature audiences, with some topics, themes, and language that may not be suitable for young readers.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
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Foreword 1ST PERIOD
1 The Edge In A Trap by Rafael Arias 5 Summer Day by Sincere Buddington 7 Unequal Lives by Enrique De Leon 11 To Be Like A Capybara by Jose Dejesus 15 I Come From by Malik Keita 17 Father Said by Anthony Mero 19 Rainbow by Yan Carlos Milanes 21 In My Mind by Jeremy Nava 25 Bliss by Gilbert Ortiz Jr. 29 A Man Dressed In Green by Justin Pabellon 31 Changes by Jerald Parten 33 Beast In My Head by Oneil Raby 37 Escape Reality by Yosniel Rosa
39 Mississippi Brown Boys by Victor Vargas 43 Call Them By Their Real Names by Rashawn Wheeler 6TH PERIOD 45 Loop by Erick Barbosa 49 Starry Dream by Jonah Benninger 51 Trust by Jay Corsino 53 Comradeship by Jason Donato Sanchez 55 The Brawl by Khaliq Dozier 57 Protect by Mike Gonzalez 59 I Come From by Angel Gonzalez 61 One Day by Michael Medina 63 The Sun 64 The Light 65 Space by Evan Minaya 67 The City of Screens by Javier Molinares 69 It Comes and Goes by Luis Ortega 71 The Wonders of the World by Richard Vasquez 73 Can’t by Maya Vicenty
7TH PERIOD 75 “Bullsh!#” by Genaro Agustin 79 America, Must We Always Speak by Roberto Cintron III 81 Hydro by Crystian Cyrus 83 Manchild by Kristoffer Waite 87 Words to Remember by Christian Dejesus 89
Beauty in Love by Toshani Dube
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Bronx-ganistand (excerpt) by Carlos Peguero
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Unify by Jonathan Perdomo
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A Short Painful Reality by Shane Perkins
97 Heal for Each Other by Makahia Porter 99 Divided We by Maurice Sheppard Jr. 103
Sharpen A Sense of Self by Amari Tibby
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Footprints Through The Dark by Javian Urena
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Note on Centos
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Acknowledgements
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FOREWORD Our Worldview: We Are Who We Are is a rare look into the minds of the burgeoning writers at Bronx Academy for Software Engineering. Sure, these students are the next wave of tech superstars, but let’s not forget that to bring about changes in the world of technology one needs imagination. And there certainly is no shortage of imagination within this collection. Imagination that demands original thinking and a deep comfort with the written word. I wrongly believed before going into this school, a school where much of the focus is within the framework of computer science and strategic and analytical thinking, that I would, at the very least, face an impasse trying to teach poetry as the art of surrendering to oneself on the page. That I would have to learn to see poetry as a set, or an algorithm. But BASE is also a place where design thinking, contextualization, and problem solving are at the core of instruction. And those skills are not only relevant, but crucial to the writing and rewriting of poetry. These poets write as if poetry speaks to the individual and collective, which it should do. These poems are unapologetic active transformations of their reality, community, and worlds. We owe it to them to listen.
Daniel Jackson 826NYC Teaching Artist
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The Edge In A Trap By Rafael Arias
The rain falling like tears from the child’s eyes, Seeing the toxic world for what it is Watching the death of their grandfather seeing his lifeless eyes Turning the child into a mess losing more than his friends. Dreams turn to nightmares nightmares to reality Finding love in the dark to fix a broken bond as tight as the strings around our hearts and hands only to find the dream of loss Thought he found nirvana by the edge of a bridge by the edge of a knife Cutting to escape the pain reality, and himself The sound of screaming crying but still can’t get help Then feels the warmth of a hand by the heavenly father The light is bright beautiful getting closer
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White doves appear the ones he lost come close by Friends, family love cheering him on screaming his name He reaches but falls back in the black dark abyss below and cries out in pain Wakes up in a hospital found out death was close The feeling of a thousand knives all over cannot move as if a warm but cold soft grizzly bear was on him nor can he open his eyes as if his lids was heavier than a one ton elephant He hears voices he feels needles in his skin he feels the warmth of his father’s hand His mother’s forehead Hearing cries from his family on earth but not being able to fix what he has done Feeling empty feeling regret feeling sorrow for what he has done to his family now he is gone The eyes of the family is as gloomy as the sky above so dark so cold, wailing for their lost 2
Wanting to go back to the old, never to let go of the past the cycle of depression continues He wakes in a field of flowers the sky being so clear being so beautiful that it seemed too real to be true The sun being so warm it feels like he is getting hugged by his mother’s arms it’s comforting, it feels perfect The pain is gone just as quickly so is his perfect paradise he now is an endless void of blackness for eternity, screaming crying out to go back like depression, the darkness captured him and held him hostage.
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Summer Day By Sincere Buddington
In my room on my chair with my LED lights on purple A/C blasting filling the room with cool air The sun’s bright light from the window blinding me My headphones so loud. It’s all Alfred “Shoot!” “Pass the ball!” I can’t hear my mom calling me And the only thing I’m looking at is my TV focusing on 2K After hours of playing I get dressed and go outside The bus taking its sweet time getting to me I just called an Uber $14.35 down the drain A quick 10-minute ride to Bronx River I get to the courts and pull out my basketball My friends are already there waiting for me We play about seven games and are exhausted Now at the store we start grabbing snacks and juice And go upstairs to my friend’s house Watching YouTube and eating our food We finish and start playing the game We make a tournament and I end up winning After I win I check the time And me and my friend Alfred take the same bus home “Yo Fredo our bus comes in 10 minutes and it’s 10 o’clock” We say bye and leave I get home and take a shower then go to sleep Then wake up and do it again. In my room on my bed with my LED lights on purple The radiator filling my room with heat Then I get dressed to leave my house But the next six hours are a blur I get out of school and get on the bus I go to my friend’s house to chill before I go home After a while I go home before it gets too late When I get home I lay down and go to sleep I wake up again Like it was all a game. 5
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Unequal Lives By Enrique De Leon
A fellow brother walking down the street without a care in the world other than his family, It’s a nice sunny day seemingly nice, he felt the slight breeze of wind across his face but a sharp pain in his back, his eyes start seeing the blur from the febrile sun, along with his regrets he thinks what did he do to be dropping under, Sadly no second chances occur after the sharp pain, he drops to his knees hearing a metallic object drop, yet to no avail it’s just an everyday thing that can happen to any brother down the line, the life of a brother is looked at as it is disposable or a resource to one’s goal Walking down a street getting looks and eyed It feels like he’s getting stung by a bee with every beady eye that stares at him He’s used to this but it boils his blood The pent up anger and frustration from not being able to freely speak his mind They see him as someone uneducated He’s reluctant due to his skin being one of a “menace” He struggles He’s outnumbered Knowing this yet he wants to retaliate against the odds stacked upon him Break through the little room people see him in, labeled as “headache” To avoid problems This person leaves himself At home And puts on a different persona, 7
Other people see him as a long mustang so he changes to a quiet tesla to avoid problems But he hates not being able to be himself because he is shaded different and coming from a different place But again why is he doing this? Does he fear what he is capable of ? Or do others fear what they think he is capable of ? Crazy to think we are all human
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To Be Like A Capybara By Jose Dejesus
Waking up at 3 a.m. blurry vision becoming more focused a strange peaceful feeling after a long and deep breath Rain hitting the ground and looking out to a full moon A sense of tranquility races down my body I try my best to be like a capybara friendly to everyone I see I hope every day when I talk I sound very calm and my voice sounds smooth There is no anger or hostility, just peace My friends are the sunlight to my darkness like a lighthouse helping a boat find its way If I am lost in grief, misery or depression my friends venture for me like searching for a jewel in a cave and fill me with high spirits and joy My friends help me lift weights off my shoulder like setting down a dresser after moving into a fresh new apartment My mood when I am with my friends can be like a hyperactive monkey like I am the most friendliest person ever someone that brings laughter and joy My taste of music has a bit of everything like grilled cheese with all types of cheese I mostly enjoy rock when I listen to rock I get ants in my pants and I want to sing and dance When I am stressed I usually escape into the virtual world and play video games When I travel into the virtual world my stress and sorrow get thrown away like a candy wrapper I feel like I don’t have a care in the world when I play games 11
I feel that I am as light as a feather I feel no resentment towards myself Music allows me to be calm and collected The specific type of music I listen to to calm me down is lofi When I listen to lofi I feel like I’m laying down relaxing on a cloud without a care in the world When I have free time to myself I like to check up on my friends, I also enjoy watching tv A problem I have is I let people’s words get to me too easily It’s like reading a very stimulating book you say one more page but keep reading and reading Something I want to do in life is record myself playing video games and post them online I want to s p r e a d positivity through my videos I want people to feel confident in themselves The one thing I want in life is to make everyone I see and meet happy
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I Come From By Malik Keita
I come from a hospital I come from that old house, Where the garbage blocks the entrance I come from Our block Watch your step you might step in poop Watch your back You’ll never know what they’ll do Random people might run up on you People are different in many ways No matter if you’re tall or short, big or small It makes you who you are People also change in different ways The noise of a shot could change someone’s life But the impact could end one No matter who the bullet hits It still impacts someone People I know always look behind them Like they are a target to someone else But even I look back sometimes Cuz these days you’ll never know People move different In different situations Some don’t know how to react Lots of people freeze up And some are quick to attack
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Father Said By Anthony Mero
You don’t want to be noticed Settle for 65s when you can do better Secrets surround you Father said you have to be on top Class A or leave school Why don’t you care about people? They care about you You use people as tools You sit in the back of class You only think of yourself Why do you keep so many secrets? Why do you trust no one Why do you like to be alone Why don’t you talk about your past Why don’t you like your father Why do your eyes not look like the eyes of a child? Why do you look tired all the time Why do you look like you want to give up Why do you look like you know more then you should Why do you look like you’re always calm What have you been through? What were you tested on with other children when you were young Why are you able to manipulate people so well Why do you know how to fight Why do you help people even though you think of them as tools I call your name but my voice always seems to fall before you Your gaze feels as cold as ice You are so silent that you could hear a pin drop 17
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Rainbow By Yan Carlos Milanes
Bright across the sky, colorful, bright and It brings attention,
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a o The sweetness of the r w in my eye. Even when they roast me on facetime blight. The rainbow never tells me That gust and storm are by. My girlfriend convinces me More than her philosophy smile, It gives me energy when my thoughts are nigh. Amazing lady, my mom Sees a picture of us together On the phone and smiles. what a lovely girl, lovely eyes, All the colors of sunshine Today I saw a rainbow with bright colors in the sky I couldn’t see its start or end Red, orange, yellow green, blue, indigo, violet It was childhood enchantment in the form of song It’s like a soft couch You sit in it and feel stressless Like a soft instrumental Gives me relaxing moments 19
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In My Mind By Jeremy Nava
I’m flesh and bones Sometimes referred to as a barking pomeranian Like glue when you are with me Like jenga when I notice But 100 like a true friend Being alone with my thoughts is a gamble Not broken or fully assembled Not in the moment or in the past or future Not beloved yet not loathed Not happy but for sure not sad or mad I’m neither here nor there I pronounce you the best actor I’m closer to your back than I am to your face As I cave in no rescue is waiting for me When you look at me what do you see? I’m done letting you walk all over me Trial and error with dwindling results a product of suffering turned success A long battle for so little joy Too late to react to the punch I never saw coming. Makes me think about lil peep, X, and juice Did they make those songs about me? Star Shopping, Sad, Changes, Wishing Well, All Girls Are The Same They’re all I see when I look in the mirror The truth comes as if I was asleep for years I’m tied to you ‘til you cut the rope Once cut I’m tied to someone new, Each war fought is my own, There will be no allied reinforcements 21
I know who I am I have poison in me I know that How many of you jumps out at me I know that Who walks past me as I stand at the edge I know that Hey, but who cares right I’m stuck on factory settings, But are factory settings so bad? No, I won’t be reset What you see is what you get This is the application And believe me, I’ll know who signs the dotted line
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Bliss By Gilbert Ortiz Jr.
I dream of I dream of I dream of I dream of I dream of
crisp cold gale gliding against the arms of trees crystal clear water thrashing against hardened rock angelic flowers in the night, dancing with the rain cotton clouds bouncing above all else stunning stars gleaming, like little souls in the night
Every morning I rise to the perfect sunset, its gorgeous pink haze is eye candy to me I dash out of my house, perfect plump clouds paving the way. I frolic around, finally rolling down a field of dandelions. All unaffected by my brash movements. The air in my world is pure, not a single puff of albuterol entering my corrupted lungs. My slide ends as I meet my humble oak dock. The dock is just high enough so my legs can freely dangle off As I take in the sight, some– thing takes hold of me. Dragging me into the Depths Below. In a cold sweat, I wake to charcoal air, slowly scorching all who take it I wake to chaotic crackling, tools shattering our world until it’s in shambles I wake to desperate tears, dripping from the sky followed by violent shrieks of light I wake to desecrated daisies, their little, feeble bodies crushed under our heels I wake to the static of love tainted by the drog of everyday life The air in our world is poison, you can’t go a block without smelling smoke Nobody is happy either, there’s always suffering and there’s 25
always sorrow. Each person is seething on the inside, only a couple grains of igneous rock from a volcanic explosion Their sharp cries and harsh anger sounding out like the whistle of a kettle Every day feels like an endless grind, constantly pushing against the walls of time for two days of reprieve. It feels like our world is crumbling around us. You can’t look in someone’s direction without feeling their gleaming gaze cauterize your soul. But it’s okay, just four more loops until Saturday. ‘Til I can travel back to my life away from life. Ignorance is bliss
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A Man Dressed In Green By Justin Pabellon
A man dressed in green With three swords Got the duey and earrings With a scar on his eye And a scar on his chest A man with a straw hat And a bright future A never give up attitude With a will to save his friends Together no one can defeat us Not even Blackbeard Nor Big Ma Know when Whitebeard appears We clapping him too We stand, me and my friend He is a bodyguard, empties any enemy I am a Captain, commanding my friends Zorro swaggers, He won’t have to heal In us lives a fire of anger. Together we won’t stop From young til old We stand united forever Forged into our blood Through experiences We will be pirates
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Changes By Jerald Parten
Let me warn you, of a serious manner now. Those holding a spirit of revenge, abuse of power. The cruel use of power, red signs, chanting of angry voices. Such attachments are those ideals, becoming nothing more than drags of a past. Blaring alarms, red flags. Such attachments, from the pride derived from shades of differences. A bridge set on fire, chaotic flames engulfing it, the shores from below watching in a predicament. Pride taken from those ideals, the past, all clouded in red discord. Had the same ideals, same thoughts, same clouds, triumphed together long ago. You’re a lost soul, your power, you can change it all. The flames won’t stop, shores crying helpless to change the inevitable. And yet you’ll decide instead to clear the smoke, smoke of red clouds. Still have your sufferings, your successes, tribulations and trials Your angels and demons, your head is so loud. Such attachments that belong to the past, now there’s Mr. Blue Sky, ain’t a cloud in sight You lost a bridge but you’re still here. The shore is gonna keep it safe And with all these parts combined, you found the means and efforts of your greatest strength. No more red clouds, no more rising tides. You’re reborn, moving forward and bona fide. Despite this war, you found freedom following bridges being torn. Now you travel alone, looking to find a new one to cross. Maybe make some bondings and form something more? You’re in your head again. Ignorance is bliss, fantasy is all fun, but you need to remember where it all begins. Let their heart go if you can’t save your own, life is pretty strange. But it’ll feel normal even with just you, go with the changes.
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Beast In My Head By Oneil Raby
I From the crashing waves on to the rocks of the whispering beach From the hill of thought, I see the crystal clear ocean of memories Looking up to see the birds of trust flying away to the land of reality Looking to my right to see the yellow willow tree of hearts seems to fade away I see something out of the corner of my eye I begin to chase it through the forest of enemies Trying to catch the red flying cardinal II Something brings me to a stop A growling shadow beast with monstrous breath My eyes widen as the beast glares With its white dazed eyes, a part of me can’t look away Until I hear the chilling drip of fear Looking down I see a pool of liquid red III In my alarmed stance I run inside its den Shades of doubt and feelings of fear All I could see was nothing more than an empty broken cage My heart begins to move like the amps of a rock star’s shout 300 beats a second, that can’t be muffled by heavy hands Creeping closer, trying not to make a sound But the closer I get, the louder the creak of the chair calls out IV Stopping in my tracks I hear a monstrous howl Jumping on to the cold stone floor Looking for comfort behind the broken, rigid rocks Praying with my sweaty palms hoping that this nightmare will stop 33
One enters from the top and one from the side The two beasts seem to do nothing but fight Clutching my heart for dear life I realized, the red cardinal was laying, Dead V I stand tall, like a hero getting up for their final attack Walking slowly out of the ring with only a bat of an eye As they both look at me I shed tears of pride With just one Blink, I saw the real beast with my very own eyes. Both personages, Looking me dead in the eye As I ask myself, why do I even try Looking down with tears in my eyes I carry the dead cardinal Burying its memory Deep Within The Willow tree of hearts
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Escape Reality By Yosniel Rosa
When we were young Wandering on dirt, through swaying tree trunks to the stream We called them New York They called us country We were strong They were tough The kind of feeling of friendship is love You get on the bus to find out it’s always full Get on the packed train Rats running through the tracks Going home to escape reality After you get home, there’s always “Sentí que ella fue mi todo” (I felt like she was my everything) sweating out of the windows When you’re craving 99 cent pizza on Friday Fresh gyro on the sidewalk Visiting Times Square on New Year’s Eve Walking through the cramped streets Stepping through the snow No more No more
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Mississippi Brown Boys By Victor Vargas
From Mississippi we were young as beautiful as real life names they were fast but also meaty By the end of Saturday through friendship and love How we were brown boys living in Pueblo having The warm wind blow by their skin By solving problems and helping with situations We loved going through The Neighborhood going through The Pueblo Nearly everyone in this part of town has something dark happen Where we see something we can’t forget where sometimes problems can’t be solved But when we are solving together we will always be there for each other Nothing could break us apart We are hyping each other up so we won’t lose hope when we always feel bad about when we were messing something up Mississippi is our home state where we felt like home till we realized something this good never lasts forever any good Adventure comes to an end sometimes a situation happens and then you have to see one of your best friends leaving to move somewhere else They go around town saying goodbye to everybody sometimes they even get rewarded 39
as a memory As the place they used to know and know will never be forgotten and forever be missed but it doesn’t always have to be goodbye The kids working together in The Pueblo said they were fast, quick, smart, strong, and problem solving The Kids turn into young adults and then turn into the wacky dreams they always wanted to be But after the boys were getting ready to leave The Pueblo gave them a goodbye for all the wonderful things they did for their town The Pueblo waved goodbye and the two brown boys waved goodbye and The Pueblo said to come back soon The boys will always have a great Echo about the town they helped
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Call Them By Their Real Names By Rashawn Wheeler
Black boys from Mississippi We were young Call them beautiful Call them by their real names Call them New York call us country We were fast, we were strong They talked with their hands We listened with our chests Their handslifted and balled up for speed We were Mississippi black boys All of us were them, by the end New York black boys and Mississippi black boysare fast at heart brave because we are young Black and white are strong, a 200-pound weight 200 problems and painThey’re heavy... New York black boys and Mississippi black boys Listen to our feelings Talk with a lisp Starting with any word with the letter S Sour, sweet, small, smart Black or white, we are strong We can carry an ax and do work... No different from the rest
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Loop By Erick Barbosa
When I dream I ask myself Who I am Who I was Why I’m here right now Maybe that’s not the question Or is it? By the end I have to wake up and start again opening the doorways of reality until I fall into a loop that consumes me Until a new day finally starts. First I woke up on a Monday feeling like Sugar Honey Iced Tea Waiting for the Slow Blue Bus every week waiting in classes feeling the same vibe until Summer arrives hear the clock ticking 2:36 every afternoon, I start to think on Fridays More than anything, unimaginable Father, Mother, Sister, A Family, my family Wake up Dress up Show up Saturday feeling like A new teenager Trying to enjoy all I can with my friends 45
24 hours pass and a new day comes by Sundays feel like Red curtain on the window Sitting on the couch watching other countries Wait until the moment arrives At the end this will replay and the loop continues.
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Starry Dream By Jonah Benninger
I come from a world of light. Where people Smile and Dance all night. When The Moon is bright and white. Cheering can be Heard from across the sky. And then the moon starts to fall. And the Sun starts to Rise. I know that my dreams glow bright. To bring The world of night. And to bring to friend and foe alike. To Their home in the Sky! When everyone stands together. Where everybody fought to be. With all the power they had to Dream. To leave all their anger behind, And to see the Sun and Moon align. For those who still seek revenge. They use the Alliances, That can be forged, With the Many Faces they meet. To doom any worries they carry. For those on the way to their palace in the sky. Playing a game of tag along the light. With the many guests they can have, So they can be repaid For their special day!
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Trust By Jay Corsino
For a best friend I’d do anything I’d fight for them But not for others Cuz you gotta watch who you trust Imagine two men about to be hung One has a knife, and uses it to cut the other man down But the freed man leaves the other one to die A blood curdling scream Many people aren’t trustworthy Many friends aren’t really friends They’ll stab you in the back When they get the chance When you turn your back They’ll pounce on you like a tiger But REAL friends don’t betray They will protect you when you need it They always have your back Friends will comfort you when you need it They will support you when you need it They’ll give you money if you need it They fight alongside you Trustworthy friends Are hard to find Betrayal isn’t fun So you gotta watch who you trust
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Comradeship By Jason Donato Sanchez
Boys from Mississippi, boys from New York young, afraid of calling them. Calling them by their names. Stephon Called them New York. Loud Noises, crowded hallways, advertisements Cars beep- beep- beepDistracting bright lights Flickering, Jackson Called us country Energetic, helpful, nimble They were tough Assisting one another Overcoming obstacles We talked with our hands. We listened with our chests New York and I Lively, Energetic City that never sleeps Mississippi boys visiting By the end New York boys Mississippi boys wandered Kind, vibrant friendship. A strong bond, Condensed chains linked Iron fused together Can’t be severed.
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The Brawl By Khaliq Dozier
I was minding my business, Only to be approached, by a man, about 6’0”, angry at me for nothing. I feel myself about to crack, stop this bickering. They’re larger than me, but I could care less and prepare. I looked him in the eye, and then we fought. My adrenaline is rushing like a waterfall, Throwing punches like bullets, dodging the haymakers. They’re not intimidating much. When I’m mad I see them as small, in my anger. And after, guilty feelings. With a side of regret and embarrassment. But before this, it was peace, just cooling and relaxing. Pushed to a limit, I’ll defend myself. I wouldn’t hurt a fly, not anybody actually. But if pushed, I Might
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Protect By Mike Gonzalez
We stand on our block, me and my neighbor But I know better Towards my sister he lurches I call out to him He won’t turn away from her So I no longer see him as a person it is now an Enemy Me confounded I never fought for her He won’t heal after what I do to him I land hit after hit Hitting him with fireworks Scratching my knuckles Swinging on something I cannot feel for Throwing hands like I’m Tank Davis Protecting her like Joel protects Ellie Leave him lying in his own fluids Sleeping like a newborn Paying for his actions with blood The anger ends I realize my actions I risked life and limb Pushed over the edge because of her I dangled my freedom over the ledge for her I’d do it again
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I Come From By Angel Gonzalez
I come from D.R. and what I like to eat is steak. The bacon egg and cheese the ‘Ock makes every morning. I come from a store full of food. I come from five hundred years of age. I come from the age of teeth. Spring/Summer I come from a place where I was told you can’t be your own kind of beautiful. I come from, “Don’t even yell around me.” I come from, “Don’t ever underestimate me.” I come from a town of hate. Pepperoni pizza. Movies like Superman in the summer. Buy clothes on Friday. More buildings all the time. In my games, open doorways. I come from a place where you don’t know what to believe. I come from a place where they say if you believe in something, it will come true. I come from a place where the stars are shiny. I come from a place where you can do the things you wanna do in life.
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One Day By Michael Medina
A friend told him, “One day you’ll see her with another.” His heart was tangled up like the ropes of a bridge as he thought, as he suffered quietly. He remembered the days where mornings were spent on ft, afternoons on the video game with her, and the nights sleeping together on the phone. But then the friend said, “She doesn’t care.” Those words struck him like a lamb to the slaughter, killing the innocence in him. Neglect. Shutting down, being more alone than ever. Motivation starting to sink. Hope being lost. Being too stubborn to ask for help. But it all changes when that light appears once again. Acceptance. Taking time of his own, just focusing on what’s important: his mom, school, his future. Seeing her with another is not compared, because eventually, someone better will come.
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The Sun By Evan Minaya
The sun was turning into a blood red GIANT. We can destroy and create life with one reaction, like a star or when a black hole is sucking light from a star. It’s not destroying light. Light is not just a candle or electricity. Space is full of the unknown. But when people find the unknown, they destroy it before seeing if it’s something they could use or help because they’re SCARED. People fire without regard for the consequences
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The Light By Evan Minaya
Light is not just a candle or electricity. Light could also be a symbol of someone who was important in your life. or a war hero getting a civilian out of danger . No matter how much gun fire or how many explosions were in that field, they went out there to save you. It could be a light when you thought you were stuck in the dark, a cancer patient and a doctor saving them from it, or another person who could have saved you Your dog warning you and protecting you from a fire or a man breaking in is another form of this. There are many forms of light, and it’s not just an item; it could be anything or anyone you look up to or them saving you
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Space By Evan Minaya
Space is full of the unknown, but when people find the unknown they destroy it before seeing if it’s something they could use or help. Humanity destroys things it touch. But it can also create new life and learn more. Space is like humanity. It can destroy and create life with one reaction like a star, but when a black hole is sucking the light from a star, it’s not destroying it. It’s storing it inside this almost infinite storage. When the time comes, it shrinks and turns into a white hole and shoots out things it had stored in it. Humans are learning from their mistakes; they are trying to bring back some animals they killed off long ago, like space creating new life every second passing by. Space has been evolving before we were even here. But humans still try to learn and control everything or destroy things for energy.
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The City of Screens By Javier Molinares
In this fake society, the darkness of the city balances the brightness of the screens. You look around and all you see are screensscreens that lie to you. And then you look at the people: always looking down at a screen, laughing or joking around, typing on their phones, And even some people, smashing their phones. But never looking up. Then you look at the most popular person, a person that has injected themselves to the brim with plastic. Someone who has had a sketchy past. One who has taken advantage over women. Is this what people want? Everyone hates falling into the long line that is normality. Everyone strives to be unique, to be special, to be loved. And then they die, feeling unaccomplished. Because to them, they weren’t “special.” When in reality, they had changed the lives of lots of people without realizing it. Just by making one small action. Turning lots of people into someone that is “special.” And they will forever be grateful for what you have done for them. But you still don’t consider yourself “special,” just because you aren’t that person that you see on your screen. 67
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It Comes and Goes By Luis Ortega
New York schools and colleges are about learning and about working hard from the beginning. The things that are good about NY are that people love to hangout on 42nd St., or go to the mall, or go to the park. In NY, there is always violence: people using guns, knives, baseball bats, and other weapons. If you want to live in NY, it will be surviving, challenging, and crazy. NY is brisk to the point you will have to wear extra layers and coats and you will have to stay warm in the winter time. The other fun and amazing thing about NY is there is no other city on the planet with an energy that can compete with New York. The fast walking, the crazy traffic, the hustle of the people, the 24/7, and the creative spirit makes NY one of the most vibrant places in the world. Also, NY is good because the borough of Brooklyn alone would be the fourth largest city in the United States. Times Square is named after the New York Times. 69
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The Wonders Of The World By Richard Vasquez
I come from where the real turns fake. The feeling when someone takes your pride rips it up, and stomps on it when you lose your inside the one by your side, the feeling when you never cry. But when you’re young in The Bronx, you’re never going to know when it’s time to fly. You feel stuck- like you’ll never get up, wondering how the world spins. When there is all this treachery in this world? Maybe somewhere in the endless solar system, I can find some place to call home. But we really never know where home is. It could be the corner, It could be the place in your heart where it is hot and warm, It could be a Christmas song you hear once a year, It could be in your room, alone, unbothered. But when it comes to home, it can be hard, hard like a bulldozer crashing into a building, hard like a baseball flying at 150 MPH. Once you leave the jungle, you’ll be amazed with a new world, A new world that can teach you the wonders of the world. But with new always comes old. The old memories of the block where you chill with your crew, Even if you have nothing to do, the new world is beautiful, So beautiful it can lead you to danger, So beautiful it can blind you, So beautiful it can take your home away. But never forget where you originated.
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Can’t By Maya Vicenty
Wings need to free
Shadows further see defeat The feeling I hate of empty Walls need to escape Rocking forth fades Lights in crate Needs more create Nothing of me Walk on creaks Need of flight But not die Having to see sky, Not in the time Wings coming back Feeling nothing, But, attack Again it fades, another day. await.
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“Bullsh!#” By Genaro Agustin
Viewer discretion is advised I have no regrets in saying these words of mine Nor will I take it back I said what I said and there’s no looking back But Fu$# this shi& let’s get this this started Call me a brat Call me a rat I don’t give a shi% Cuz its all bullshi$ Call me rude Call me a rebel Call me immature But guess what? It’s all bullsh^% Call me a loner Cuz I work alone But there’s a difference between loner and Someone who’d rather work alone Therefore it’s bullsh^% To those reading this, are you satisfied? Are you satisfied that someone just put in a few words and called it a day? Slaving themselves over a grade that quote on quote “determines” their worth To a system that grades students like grading the quality of meat Like a mule keeping its master happy by carrying loads Of pure utter bull#&^% Like struggling through the trenches of war The brain getting out word for word Like a rainfall of bullets 75
The constant pressure Like someone holding and choking you by the throat Cold sweat dripping off like a cold can of Sprite Gurgling on your saliva like you’re drowning But don’t worry about it You got your poem You got your grade Now stick it up and shut the fu(& up Time to rest, time to sleep Time to snore your life away like snorlax Good day and good night
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America, Must We Always Speak By Roberto Cintron III
Like burning yellow grain, scarring the feet of those without a towel? Like an army of hatred, broken windows and dark rubber full of holes against someone who didn’t even have any drive to drive away? Like the discouraging parent, why must we cut down imagination as the rolling oval fields become still triangles? Like the calm lumberjack, wood ripped with our violent fingertips as perfectly built scattered nests and wood coat the forest where sounds were always heard? Like a child who dislikes vegetables? A Cascade of green in his eyes going away and keeping it the same. We have the face of the rabbit, eyes full of soul... But just like the rabbit, we eat our own kind. We are also picky eaters; gender, race, and sexuality is judged with no jury. We seem to enjoy ripping people, moving the hard shell into the lens so hot it burns fingertips with a loud sizzle just to judge them by. It seems for every simple working man, a sign accusing them of being a demon stands. Everywhere across the land… Love, Compassion, and Conviction are banned. It doesn’t matter how hard you try to blend in, we are professional graveyard architects. And our gravestones will continue to expand. The globe moves around as we stay the same. It seems that all Americans share the same brain. Just moving forward didn’t seem so hard. But we can’t escape our history, it’s full of endless scars. Hot palms gather in a circle; we extend our hands and are met with dense air. 79
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Hydro By Crystian Cyrus
A waterfall dropped onto his head Slathering his face which before looked quite red A banquet of water which would make anyone look well-fed The silence of the water filled the room with dread But eventually everything felt better left unsaid As caring about anything outside of the room was simply misled Forgetting friends who were named Fred and someone he thought was named Ted Maybe a message from them they would send After all, anything that mattered to him was dropping onto his head Water could only be so wet Clearing all of the built-up sweat That’s really all a shower can get for you Making the bumps and marks on the skin quite upset Did any of it really matter at the end of the day? No, because all that was left back there Was dismay.
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Manchild By Kristoffer Waite
I am not a shattered plate, but will never be fixed. I am a teenager who feels mentally sick. I feel as if everyday is getting worse and worse, but I would not like to end up in a hearse. I am cautious and very aware, my eyes can barely see it, but I know it’s right there. The virus is what we are witnessing, like a war that will always be everywhere. I am calm. I am not hurt mentally but physically within, my eyes have seen betrayal of people I onced called friends. I feel as if the past should be left on deaf ears. Nothing to remember, hear, or fear. I am still calm. In my father’s eyes, he still views me as his loving child. He knows who I am as if, in his brain, he keeps an open file. He is the reason for my survival; if not for him, I would’ve been dead on arrival. Am I still calm? I am not a shattered plate, I know who I am. A teenager who is growing to be a man. I feel like everyday is a new day. 83
The world has changed and not in a good way. I push forward, but it may never be the same. Although I am really still calm? Not calm, but now at peace with me, myself, and I. The anxiety, the pain, and the emotional suffering will now die. What I can say is, this was the worst way to be alive. I forgot, however, that this is all in my mind. I am just a manchild.
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Words to Remember By Christian Dejesus
Fate begins as one man awakes from Deep slumber like when a movie starts playing He wakes to nothing Darkness, soundless, He sheds a tear of sorrow As gravity lifts up a lifeless man Not caring about anything He gets ready with his disheartening day in life As he leaves his house he feels a chain A chain that is holding him By his arms and legs, not letting him go As if he completely forgot something dear in life, He tries to proceed but it won’t let go, He hears a voice from Inside his house other than The rusty chains hitting each other He must be going insane? Voices grow louder as if you’re in a basement that echoes, The voices come from an old door with its paint peeled off The door slowly opens Like a rusty gate swinging Nothing there just a single bed As he lays down Nothing happens other than sinking down. As I close my eyes Slight breeze on my ear The man opened his eyes the bright color outside was warm Standing in front of him A woman dressed in white with a smooth veil She says sorry for not being with you till the end but… Enjoy life, have fun, and live... As fate begins once again one man awakes and remembers One word, “Live.” 87
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Beauty in Love By Toshani Dube
Beauty in Love His cheeks are rosy as roses His smile and laughter of joy His luscious full head of hair with his cute little curls Very handsome, skinny, and tall He is so tall and thin The rosy cheeks brighten everyone up The smile is cute and makes me happy Brightens up like the sun Smells as fresh as a flower Sweet like sugar He sees me as pretty like an angel That comes from the sky Gives all pleasure and love Like the girl who is always glamorous Who makes everyone’s day The joy that makes his day for the Laughter for brightness that shines like the sun Hair so soft, fluffy, and smooth like the clouds in the sky The sparkles are like magic that an angel would give by its wand Smells fresh as a flower giving fragrance as spring Sweet as honey, like the taste and personality too That the bees provide in spring For the prettiness and warmth too, blessed and warmth With wishes Which come and are nicer and truer to anyone than Anybody can desire For everything that is and the acts too
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Bronx-ganistand (excerpt) By Carlos Peguero
Addiction is something that makes you want more Like if you saw your favorite candy and took three Addiction is something strong within me But not for drugs like the neighborhood fiends The shit I’m addicted to is the green Slim, fragile, paper thin and with invisible value But something so valuable it could change you See I’m not like these other dudes where money make you switch-n-flip Not these dudes that get green and decide to act like a d**k Nah that ain’t me, I let it accumulate but never change me This money got me swerving looking sickly Been doing this shit since before musical.ly But no matter what the money will never change me You see, the money I chase But my heart stays in the same place Not to be changed by a piece of paper that has enslaved the human race This is Bronx-ganistand where shit get real It’s either drill and get paper or end up at the bottom of someone’s heel.
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Unify By Jonathan Perdomo
This is the beginning of our story, Every part of our country perceives Slight shades of differences, Apart and alone is part of our story, But it is unwise to restrict our lives, Entangled with my own regrets Sharpened by an influence of power, I never fought for so much, More than any local discrimination, More than any abuse of power, Sooner or later, If we become one with each other and live to go beyond, Together we can accomplish many things, In turn grant us our everlasting happiness, Treat us for something more, We possess efforts of success, All parts combined become an effort of greater strength, Be able to become a great deal, We will work together despite our differences, We Become more with consideration, Anything is possible, We believe To overcome our problems, We will rise to see another day, We stand together.
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A Short Painful Reality By Shane Perkins
A caterpillar starts a simple life Minding its business and eating plants Trying to grow to the best it can be The caterpillar is living a sinless life But nothing in life will go untouched Fellers and masticators at work Destroying something precious unintentionally Maybe it was just bad luck Being born in a place to become a statistic Of how many casualties of their own environment Never getting the chance to become a butterfly or a moth Never getting the chance to get far away from home It seems like there is a curse placed from birth How can’t it be fair if everything happens for a reason God put everything on earth for a reason Everything born innocent Maybe the butterfly should focus on helping caterpillars get to his level But maybe the caterpillars life can be a lesson For everything coming after it Maybe it will give others courage to have a different ending Maybe they will want to do the most with their short lives But just like a hero, they will need guidance Because it would be insanity if nothing changes It wouldn’t hurt to just give them hope So a caterpillar can live a simple life
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Heal for Each Other By Makahia Porter
Stand together, don’t turn apart heal for each other Don’t turn away from each other as a powerful couple He belongs to me more than any feeling Seeing different couples together makes you feel happy As a powerful couple don’t let anyone back you down Always be there for each other even though y’all have big-ass fights and stand by each other no matter what and I been through the same thing in a relationship that we had to have each other’s back, no matter what even though we’ve been through a lot; we got everybody hating on us because we are a powerful-ass couple that doesn’t care what people say about us, plus if we did care what people say about us that will put more stress on us, but we will never turn each other down for nothing While the whole world is hating on us for the things we do And they will never leave us alone while hating on us And while we argue about stupid things that are not important But won’t leave each other alone for anything, and Also, stay together no matter what we just doing this for us As we don’t argue not that we building a powerful message To Everyone that nothing can’t back us down for nothing or anything And always love each other no matter what DON’T LEAVE EACH OTHER SIDE FOR ANYTHING‼️‼️‼️
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Divided We By Maurice Sheppard Jr.
The name america Always exalts to speak of the pride With shades of differences You have the same religion, manners, habits
The north in a dependent relationship with the south
The east finds improvement Of communications by land and water The west is only able to expand from the east
The south benefits from the work of the north
All parts combined All unified together Make up one large nation The United States of America Is said to always be free Always be unified Always be together The Un-unified States of America Is it really the land of the free? Are the states really united? Are the women really being heard? What about the minorities? Is everyone really welcome in america? Different political parties Different skin colors 99
Why should it matter what I believe? Or why should it matter what I look like? We do the same things Work the same jobs So tell me america, Why isn’t it the land of the free?
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Sharpen A Sense of Self By Amari Tibby
Let me now sharpen, Increase the knowledge I come from only the strong remain By the spirit of revenge. They pushed me off the swing And I swung back As instinct takes over The king moves And the horse follows Difference in form, ability, Power killer instinct is developed In battle to crush and destroy our enemies. To crush and destroy our enemies. I come from losing Not an answer As hidden power is within Our very core We come from Better say “Hi” to everyone Might be easy to forge Attachments Where they shoot, Sunflowers Follow A particularly patriotic nation Weak and powerful As they feel broken, Their souls become hollow As they lose their sense of self 103
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Footprints Through the Dark By Javian Urena
Noise, constant Being confronted by the unusual Children converge towards me I fought To heal Until crowded Affected by the time machine Regret grows,regret
grows,
regret grows
Hunger becomes impossible to resolve Even in a place where hunger never goes unsolved It growls time and time again Rumbling to the touch The emotion over-filling Red lights No, black fire Anger Confronted time and time again The person I was before Incarcerated Painting, trying to get air Exhausted breath emitting from a tired soul The darkness closing in Fear is eminent But it will stoke the crackling fire inside Foot prints printed into the dark ground Leading into the light
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Notes on Centos From the Latin word for “patchwork,” the cento (or collage poem) is a poetic form composed entirely of lines from poems by other poets. Some poems in this collection came from an exercise in creating centos. The mentor texts used in class included: •
“City Summer, Country Summer” by Kiese Laymon
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George Washington’s “Farewell Address”
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“Corners” by Enzo Silon Surin
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“A Young Man” by Jericho Brown
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“GTA: San Andreas (or, Grove Street, Bitch!)” by Jacob Sanez
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“Famous” by Naomi Nye Shihab
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“Break” by Aracelis Girmay
Students were also encouraged to seek out their own inspiration, so you may find collaged lines in some of the poems in this book that you recognize from poems and song lyrics. This is intentional and honors the cento form.
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Acknowledgments In our Young Writers Publish program, 826NYC works with classes of students and teachers on creative writing projects around and beyond New York City. 11th grade students from the Bronx Academy for Software Engineering explored poetry across multiple forms, including centos, erasure poetry, metered poetry, and more. Our Worldview: We Are Who We Are is a compilation of the original work of these students. A huge thank you to the 826NYC teaching artist, Daniel Jackson, for creating classrooms where students were able to play with language and line breaks, themes and settings. Your support, encouragement, and consistency helped our young writers tap into their imaginations and memories to produce such moving work, and your care in helping them brainstorm, write, and revise throughout this project was invaluable. We are particularly grateful to BASE teachers Nikita Patel and Louis Reed for their vision and support of this project. Thank you for inviting us into your classrooms and working so closely on this project, for highlighting the brilliance and interests of your students at every turn, and being so generous with your time and enthusiasm. Your hard work and steadfast dedication to your students allows them to flourish as young writers and thinkers. Thank you to our writing mentors, Dov Alpert, Arrianne Bautista, Olivia Ensley, Susan Evans, and Holly Settoon, for keeping up with these young writers and nurturing their growing texts. At 826NYC we depend on the dedicated volunteer editing and design cohort that make our publications a reality. Thank you to Vanessa Friedman for overseeing the editing, proofreading, and design of this book. Thank you to Adi Kwiatek for designing such a beautiful book for our students. To copy editors and proofreaders Rakhee Bhatt, Kora Fillet, Tiana Moe, Dave Rublin, Carly Schnitzler, Lauren Stefaniak, Alyssa Thibodeau, and Stephanie Whetstone for their careful attention to each of the student’s pieces, thank you. Very special thanks to BASE student artist Jerald Parten for the beautiful original artwork of a rose growing from concrete featured on 113
the cover, representing the passion and power of growth and beauty in the Bronx. A big thank you to the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs in partnership with the City Council, The Jane Friedman Anspach Family Foundation, The Find Your Light Foundation, The Hawkins Foundation, The Rona Jaffe Foundation, The Kettering Family Foundation, The Minerva Foundation, The Pinkerton Foundation, The Resnick Family Foundation, and Youth, Inc. The program is also made possible by the New York State Council on the Arts with the support of Governor Kathy Hochul and the New York State Legislature. Additional support comes from the National Endowment for the Arts. To find out more about how National Endowment for the Arts grants impact individuals and communities, visit www.arts.gov. 826NYC is grateful to the many individuals who support our work. To see our full list of supporters or make a donation, please visit https://826nyc.org/donate-us/. Thank you especially to the 826NYC staff for their behind-thescenes support of this project, from curriculum development and the book-making process to volunteer recruitment. Finally, thank you to the students at the Bronx Academy for Software Engineering for taking risks with your writing and sharing your words with us. While the process of writing and revision poses many challenges, we hope you also found excitement and joy in creating this work, as we do in reading it. Your dedication to your craft and your vision shines through in these pieces. We are all excited to see what you’ll write and create in the future!
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826NYC Location and Leadership
826NYC and The Brooklyn Superhero Supply Co. 372 Fifth Ave Brooklyn, NY 11215 718.499.9884 www.826nyc.org Staff Joshua Mandelbaum, Executive Director Jesusdaniel Barba, Programs Coordinator Janna Cisterino, Development & Communications Manager Rico Denard, Store Associate Chris Eckert, Store Manager Vanessa Friedman, Publications Associate Julianna Lee Merino, Programs Coordinator Summer Medina, Volunteer & Programs Coordinator Stella Raffle-Wax, Store Associate Mandy Seiner, Volunteer & Programs Manager Naomi Solomon, Director of Education Teaching Artists Gillian Adler J’miah Baird David Ewalt Willie Filkowski Daniel Goulden Varud Gupta Daniel Jackson Jaydra Johnson Board of Directors Michelle McGovern, President Ted Wolff, Vice President Ray Carpenter, Treasurer Kathryn Yontef, Secretary Michael Colagiovanni Jen D’Ambroise Liza Demby Jamal Edwards
Amir Mokari Sheila Peluso Katie Schwab Danielle Sinay Andrew Sparkler Alyson Stone Maura Tierney Thom Unterburger
826NYC Programs Write After School Reading and writing go together like peanut butter and jelly. Write After School students work alongside 826NYC staff and volunteers to build their reading, writing, social-emotional skills and unleash their imagination as they play and learn about the power of language. Three times a year, students revise their creative writing for publications that are printed in English and Spanish and shared with families, volunteers, and community members at celebratory readings. Write Away Workshops Young writers come together in Write Away Workshops to explore a multitude of genres and subjects and to develop their voices. Groups write freely and participate in imaginative writing activities and lessons. Whether it’s a song, a piece of climate justice sci-fi, or a nature guide, young writers leave the workshop with a piece to be proud of, as well as a newfound understanding of the topic, and new friends. Write All About It In Write All About It, reporters from grades 5-8 learn how to conduct a great interview, how to write a classic news story, and more importantly, how to sniff out where the great untold stories of Brooklyn are hiding. We focus on hyper-local news to see how it connects to what’s going on across the country and around the world. Student work is published regularly in The 826NYC Post on 826NYC’s Medium page. Young Writers Publish Turn your classroom into a creative writing lab. During Young Writers Publish residencies, 826NYC teaching artists collaborate with educators on creative, impactful, curriculum-aligned projects that transform students into published authors. Residencies run from six weeks to a full year, depending on the project. Each Young Writers Publish culminates in a book, newspaper, zine, podcast, film, or performance featuring your students.
Write Together 826NYC hosts classes across New York City for Write Together: an interactive writing experience that encourages creative expression, explores the elements of storytelling, and strengthens writing skills. Elementary-aged classes collaborate on illustrated children’s books, middle schoolers choose their own adventure, and high schoolers learn the art of memoir writing during a fast- paced and whimsical 90 minute narrative program. Teen Writers Collective Teens are the next generation of literary leaders. That’s why we launched the Teen Writers’ Collective. The collective brings together young writers from around the city to explore the art of writing and literary citizenship. They are a community of passionate and creative peers, serve as 826NYC youth leaders, and inspire younger students and peers across the network. Dungeons & Dragons & Writers Dungeons & Dragons, the epic fantasy role-playing game where players craft characters to take on magical quests that can change with the roll of the dice, has a home at 826NYC. A band of adventurous authors in grades 5-8 play out an entirely original tale and chronicle their fantastical deeds in character point-of-view journals, histories, and scene writing. Sometimes the greatest gift is the friends we make — and make up — along the way. Student Publications Through our programs, our volunteers work with students to help them create stories, poems, and ’zines. Because we believe that the quality of students’ work is greatly enhanced when they are given the chance to share it with an authentic audience, we are committed to publishing student works. By encouraging their work and by guiding them through the process of publication, we make abundantly clear that their ideas are valued.
In OUR WORLDVIEW: WE ARE WHO WE ARE, the talented and thoughtful writers at the Bronx Academy for Software Engineering share poignant insights into their lives, showing the reader that their lived experiences and cultural capital are not to be brushed aside. How wonderful it is to be given these glimpses into the worlds of these young people, and ask ourselves: is this the world as we see it? What do we miss or gloss over every day that these writers are boldly, caringly, and creatively reckoning with? Many of these writers are first-generation immigrants; multicultural voices that have long been silent rise up here to remind us of what we’ve always known: that the relationship between people and places is always an essential story to tell. Proceeds from the sale of this book benefit 826NYC, a nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting students, ages six to eighteen, with their creative and expository writing skills, and to helping teachers inspire their students to write.
A NOTE FROM JERALD PARTEN ON HIS FEATURED ARTWORK: I thought of a rose growing from concrete but with that, what's forming the rose itself is more passion and it's seen as powerful because of it. Which is why I put some glow around the concrete and the cracks. The particles around were gonna be looked at as rain and the particles coming from the broken concrete further show the passion.
ISBN 978-1-948644-87-7
9 781948 644877
