1 Giannina Braschi Poet and novelist Giannina Braschi is credited with writing the first Spanglish novel YO-YO BOING! and the poetry trilogy Empire of Dreams, which chronicles the Latin American immigrant's experiences in the United States. "For decades, Dominican more.. more..

2 “ Giannina Braschi:Behind the word is silence. Behind that silence is forgetfulness. #Silence#Silence

3 “ Giannina Braschi:On the top floor of the Empire State a shepherd has stood up to sing and dance. #Empire#Empire

4 “ Giannina Braschi:"I saw a torso falling--no legs--no head--just a torso. I am redundant because I can’t believe what I saw. I saw a torso falling--no legs--no head--just a torso--tumbling in the air-- dressed in a bright white shirt--the shirt of the businessman-- tucked in--neatly--under the belt--snugly fastened--holding up his pants that had no legs. He had hit a steel girder--and he was dead-- dead for a ducat, dead--on the floor of Krispy Krème--with powdered donuts for a head--fresh out of the oven--crispy and round--hot and tasty--and this businessman--on the ground was clutching a briefcase in his hand--and on his finger, the wedding band. I suppose he thought his briefcase was his life--or his wife-- or that both were one--because the briefcase was as tight in hand as the wedding band." #Fame#Fame

5 “ Giannina Braschi:I have been a fortune teller. Ages ago I told the forture on buffoons and madmen. You remember. I had a small voice like a grain of sand and enormous hands. Madmen walked over my hands. I told them the truth. I could never lie to them. And now I am sorry. #Truth#Truth

6 “ Giannina Braschi:Boom! Boom! He's dead. He's dead. Mariquita has killed the Narrator. Revolution in the Intimate Diary of Solitude. He's dead. He's dead. But he's not really dead. He has just told me that he doesn't like agressive women like me. He has just told me that there is too much resentment in my words. And he has just told me that I said, "Boom! Boom!" and I didn't kill anyone. After all, I'm not a feminist. I don't have to be a feminist to call myself Mariquita Samper. I'm sustained by my name and my person. I'm an egg and nothing more. #Revolutions and Revolutionaries#Revolutions and Revolutionaries

7 “ Giannina Braschi:I have just turned life into a proverb. I just killed it. #Proverbs#Proverbs

8 “ Giannina Braschi:If I respected languages like you do, I wouldn't write at all. El muro de Berlín fue derribado. Why can't I do the same? Desde la torre de Babel, las lenguas han sido siempre una forma de divorciarnos del resto de la humanidad. Poetry must find ways of breaking distance. I'm not reducing my audience. On the contrary, I'm going to have a bigger audience with the common markets--in Europe--in America. And besides, all languages are dialects that are made to break new grounds. I feel like Dante, Petrarca and Boccaccio, and I even feel like Garcilaso forging a new language. Saludo al nuevo siglo, el siglo del nuevo lenguaje de América, y le digo adiós a la retórica separatista y a los atavismos. #Funny#Funny

9 “ Giannina Braschi:The day jumped today. I'm upside down, it said to me, and I answered, help me take the ceiling down and put it in the street. Then bring the ladder over here and lay it on the floor. If this is how the world is, I said to myself, let it stay this way. But then the phone rang, the alarm rang, the clocks all rang, and everything escaped. #Dreams#Dreams

10 “ Giannina Braschi:Detrás de la palabra está el silencio. Detrás de lo que suena está la puerta. En cada cosa hay un envés y un pliegue que se oculta. Y lo que se acercaba se cayó y se detuvo lejos en la cercanía. Una expresión se duerme y se levanta. Y lo que estaba allá regresa. Es una forma de volver el mundo a su lugar. Y algo vuelve cuando debiera quedarse recordando. Pero si toco el timbre el agua salta y el río vuelve a caer del agua y el cuerpo se levanta y vibra. Y la piedra se despierta y dice canto. Y la mano se transforma en un pañuelo. Y compañeros son el crepúsculo y el viento. Y ese crepúsculo aparece en medio de un relámpago. Fuera hay un pájaro y un árbol y una rama y aquel relámpago. Y sobre todo hay mediodía sin forma. Y de repente todo adquiere movimiento. Dos viajeros se encuentran y sus zapatos bailan. Y chocan la brisa y la mañana. Y corre la gaviota y el conejo vuela. Y corre y corre y corría la corriente. Detrás de eso que corre está la vida. Detrás de ese silencio está la puerta. #Patience#Patience

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