Call this mutiny Uncollected poems

In his seventh book of poetry, celebrated Chamoru poet Perez (From Unincorporated Territory [åmot], 2023) turns his gaze at his island of Guam, and abroad, and back again. Perez employs a variety of forms, including an anagram that converts a rising "ocean" into a "canoe" that saves lives, and an abecedarian titled "ECL (English as a Colonial Language)," which alphabetizes a concise history of Guam's colonization. Another poem reframes Magellan's arrival in Guam in 1521 as a belated accident of chance: "we discovered you / lost and drifting / in our already named ocean." Perez threads damning facts into lyrical indictments, such as the reality that Guamanians are disenfranchised from voting, yet one in eight serve in the U.S. military. "Scorched Earth" marks the irony of a military that boasts "net zero energy bases, hybrid humvees, / and biodegradable bullets," while emitting more pollution than many countries. Other poems meditate on what it means to be a diasporic Chamoru, to feel foreign in the continental U.S. and estranged from their island home: "our ancestors taught us how to carry our culture / in the canoes of our bodies." Another engaging, timely, and insightful collection from a deeply talented poet.

The thrilling latest by Santos Perez (from unincorporated territory ) gathers previously uncollected poems in a powerhouse package of decolonial Indigenous insight. A Chamoru poet native to Guam, he confronts the ongoing legacies of European settler colonialism and past injustices across Pacific islands to the U.S. mainland and beyond. In the title entry, Santos Perez defiantly addresses Ferdinand Magellan, famous for his circumnavigation of Earth, presenting an alternative, Indigenous perspective on Magellan's arrival in Guam in 1521: "Call this mutiny,/ we discovered you/ lost and drifting/ in our already named ocean,/ we saved you/ diseased and starving." Santos Perez frequently remixes inherited colonial forms of poetry, as in the abecedarian poem "ECL (English as a Colonial Language)," which lyrically highlights English's destructive power to suppress Chamoru culture: "language lost/ mouths muted/ nouns in/ oceanic orature or/ pasifika palates/ quelled." Balancing lyricism with an appealing political directness, these poems ask penetrating questions: "Can we disarm/ our nation/ if we don't/ demilitarize/ our imagination?" This rousing and expansive collection points the way toward a more just future. (Sept.)