>> I want to finish by reading just small poems
and then we'll move on to read from my latest book.
I was about nine years old, in LA, and visiting my grandma and my grandma basically died
and that's what the poem is about.
We were not told that she had died and we waited for weeks and I really resented that.
And now, I'm very much involved with Day of the Dead.
I'm part of the committee in San Francisco that gets together every year
and we do this community ritual, a procession.
Last year, about 7,000 people participated and the poem goes El día de los muertos.
A los muertos les da mucha alegría, la gente les lleva flores en el panteón.
En casa, les dedicamos un altar, compartimos una cena familiar con cuentos, ofrendas y pan.
A los muertos queremos recordar, con la música los imaginamos bailar.
Yo pongo una foto en el altar, es mi abuela que me viene a visita.
Day of the death.
Brings lots of joy to the dead.
People take flowers to the tombs.
At home, we dedicate an altar to them.
We share a family dinner with stories, offers and bread.
We want to recall our dead.
We imagine them dancing to the music.
I place a photo on our altar.
It's my grandma who comes to visit me.