RoseSunWater - by Angel Dominguez (Paperback)
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<p/><br></br><p><b> Book Synopsis </b></p></br></br><p>RoseSunWater</em> is a collection of bioluminescent writing that seeks to keep memory alive in the face of colonial gentrification of the city, the peninsula, and the mind. The writing contained seeks to render the spillage of the spirit through ancestral retracings from Los Angeles to the Yucatán, from the orchard to the cenote and back to the sea. RSW</em> is an attempt to finish a poem that Angel's grandmother wrote, sleep-walking through time and space in search of the recuperation of ancestry, dreams, and a sense of home.</p><p><br></p><p>Excerpts appear at: </p><p>AMERARCANA no. 8</p><p>The Spectacle no. 9 (forthcoming)</p><p/><br></br><p><b> Review Quotes </b></p></br></br><br><p>of identity that coalesce future, past and present. This book breathes fire, exudes floral eminence, dislodges tyranny with wind, water, sun and roses: an entranced ceremony of existence." -BRENDA IIJIMA</p><p><br></p><p>"Angel Dominguez's poetry is where you turn for that tender and frightening feeling of calling to your past, to your ancestors, to the land that bore you. What answers that call? Your own voice, in an 'echoic familiarity, ' sometimes unbearable and sometimes ecstatic in its repetitive everyday. In <em>RoseSunWater, </em> much like in its spiritual predecessor <em>Black Lavender Milk</em>, Dominguez writes in an ancient personal, a kind of confessional voice that almost obsessively considers both its monumental historicity and its often slow-going present. This is a moving and caring book that pleads for some way to survive, some way to face the past, present, and future of colonialism, racism, environmental degradation, violence, and the police. Like all of Dominguez's books, it is a loving and hurting dream." -GABRIEL OJEDA-SAGUÉ</p><p><br></p><p>"<em>RoseSunWater</em> fills me with gratitude for Angel Dominguez and their gift---a brilliance limned in a superbly moving book. <em>RoseSunWater</em> instructs me in the purposes of memory, even of loss. Their grandmother's little house where he grew up, they inform us at the start 'is going to be destroyed before this book is ever finished.' Angel Dominguez travels far beyond that house to reconnoiter memory, through the past and loss. In 'the pyramids my ancestors built' in Yucatan, with their crowds of tourists, on the roads with their police roadblocks, at Merida, Tulum and the sacred Cenote del Chuhuan he renegotiates the lives that their family left behind. That little house in the Valley north of Los Angeles, for Angel Dominguez, is not a rehash of the nostalgic tropes of Romanticism. In the sacred cenote they find 'a gleaming Frito bag floating upon the matte, adventurine green algae that covers the portal now.' This book does not diminish the impact of gentrification nor the trashing of the body of the land through colonialism; instead, Angel Dominguez instructs us on the uses of memory, ritual and poetry in radically effective resistance against the gentrification of the spirit. If our childhood neighborhoods (our very childhoods themselves) are bulldozed by capital seeking an immediate return, our spirits are likewise gentrified by dislocation and loss, our restless and rootless migration to earn a living, continual movement, education, degrees and 'self-improvement.' <em>RoseSunWater</em> is antidote to the gentrification of the spirit you can hold in one hand, some sweet water." -SESSHU FOSTER, author of <em>Atomik Aztex</em> and <em>City of the Future</em></p><p><br></p><p>"The gift of <em>RoseSunWater</em> arrived to me today at 4:45PM by way of an orange quartz light. When Dominguez writes, 'All I ever wanted was to be alive, ' everything in my body rearranged itself to receive this light. I welcome its beauty, which is like justice, but sublime." -LARA MIMOSA MONTES, author of <em>Thresholes</em></p><p><br></p><p>"'What does it mean to write a document of light?' It means this work is a mirror universe, a rose-covered portal across feeling. Through cenotes Yucatecos, Tongva territory, and the Santa Cruz mountains. You are holding a lineage, a fire the poet keeps building 'writing (remembering) beside the shelter I've made for myself in my veins, I keep trying</p><p>to keep trying.' The poems become flowers that grow 'out of what's missing: rose, sun, water.' Be prepared to thread your own maps out of what you do not know and wish you could mend. Be prepared to find out how we must make a 'new sound out of this living.'" -VICKIE VERTIZ, Author of <em>Palm Frond With Its Throat Cut</em></p><br>
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