Old video from my collection: Speaking at a Time

Jun 12, 2022 by Amelia Diaz Ettinger

The Bluebird World

Mar 11, 2022 by Amelia Diaz Ettinger

So grateful to have this poem published by The Bluebird Word along with the art of Jametlene Reskp. You can read the poem and see the image here;

The Single Story of a Latinx Pinocchio

11 MARCH 2022 / 

Poetry by Amelia Díaz Ettinger

My Puerto Rican aunt in North Carolina, lived in pearls, three-inch heels, and illusions.
There is bigotry for blacks, but we are white.
And yet a woman stopped her car at my aunt’s Corinthian columns
How much do they pay; I can pay you double.
The Gucci suit and diamonds was no shield.
Still, my aunt, mi tía, insisted; “ignorance vs. prejudice.”
(A PhD from Columbia in New York assured her notions had to be right).
What’s the difference?” I asked.
Don’t be impertinent.

A woman with puffy bleached hair, and a ‘T’ shirt of compassion says,
Tell me your hardship story,” empathy fills her eyes, and I almost laughed.
I know what she wants, but living in a palace surrounded by cultured men would unhinge
what she expects and I am tired
half a century of talk. I want calm, and I want peace, and I want somehow to fit
in this olive brown skin, so I gift her;
Born in a shack without water or electricity. It was the slums, el barrio.
She tearily pats my knee, my father in his grave protests, ‘Remember Caruso and Barcelona’,
he says and I silence him, so I swallow memories in surrender
and I become the Latinx Pinocchio.

It is easy to release a single story,
harder to pretend virtue,
so I talk in a soft voice,
when pain blinds me in anger.
And I work harder,
three times, five times, a billion times,
knowing it would not be enough
I still will be the sleeping effigy
under a large sombrero.
Above all entomb lust under a blue tarp,
along with my ambitions,
my culture, mi gente,
and my nose grows long,
but I can’t bury the rhythm of my hips,

I can accommodate, I can give and I will take, will sigh after I cry, and smile until I make a grimace, but when my children are denied— yes— then, I will justify this constant view,

I will lose my temper.
Time after time, my children were told:
You can’t write Hispanic in these forms.
What do you want? Some sort of privileges?
You are white
I see the pain each time they denied
my part in them.

Now, my grandson is too young to understand,
“Yes!” he screams, “she IS my Nana,” Confusion in his eyes.
To me, carrying them in my arms:
“Where did you go to adopt these children?”
“Tell me the truth, are they adopted? Or are they albino?”
“No! You can’t possibly be their mama!”
This I cannot give.
Here I draw the threshold.
I will cut this wooden nose to spite my face.

Clark's nutcraker

Feb 09, 2022 by Amelia Diaz Ettinger
This little poem found a nest and I can't wait to share it with you! Clark's nutcracker


Jan 26, 2022 by Amelia Diaz Ettinger
Thank you, Sandy Kleven and Mike Burwell, for publishing two of my poems in Cirque #23. The new issue is up on their website! And the cover is beautiful!

Western Bluebird

Jan 04, 2022 by Amelia Diaz Ettinger
So thrilled to have this poem published at Hare's Paw Review!

Literary Hurricane !!!!

Nov 16, 2021 by Amelia Diaz Ettinger
What a wonderful week! I presented in a panel with Teresa K Miller and Erika Stevens at the Portland Book Fair. What an opportunity! If you have not been part of this event you shouldn't miss it. The attention to detail, the organization, the volunteers, the writers, all so well planned. This year it was hybrid with some events going virtual and others in person. I participated live and found that they were so careful, I felt as safe as being home. Just wonderful!

In other news, my short story, The Maid/ La Sirvientta, is published online by Somos en Escrito. If you give it a read, leave us a 

Portland Book Festival

Oct 29, 2021 by Amelia Diaz Ettinger
Check the Portland Book festival and join me on a presentation about home, migration, and identity

Exciting News!!

Oct 14, 2021 by Amelia Diaz Ettinger
Please join me in Portland! I will be presenting at the Portland Book Festival 


Sat, November 13 from 1:45 pm - 2:45 pm PST
Portland’5 Brunish Theatre
1111 SW Broadway Ave Portland, Oregon 97205
Amelia Díaz EttingerTeresa K. MillerErika Stevens

Calyx Journal

Oct 13, 2021 by Amelia Diaz Ettinger
The cover for Calyx Journal,  Vol 31:3, is out! It was designed by Oregon's Dale Champlin. I hope you have a chance to get hold of a copy. There is a short story from yours truly in it and I think you might like it! Go and check it out and while there buy the new volume!

Join me!!!

Oct 07, 2021 by Amelia Diaz Ettinger
Please join me at the Portland Book Festival. Here is some information:

House Wren Poem

Sep 21, 2021 by Amelia Diaz Ettinger
So happy this little wren found a place to nest. Read the poem here:


Sep 21, 2021 by Amelia Diaz Ettinger
I feel so honored to have these two poems in this new issue of Willawaw Journal. You can read my poems and the full journal at this link:

The shell of a mollusk

Aug 02, 2021 by Amelia Diaz Ettinger
So happy that this poem was published in GIngerbread Ritual Literary Journal on August 2, 2021. You can read the poem here.

New Poems

Jul 01, 2021 by Amelia Diaz Ettinger
I'm pleased to have these five poems published by Anvil Tongue Books. Hope you have a minute to give them a look!

Pendleton Center for the Arts presentation

Jun 16, 2021 by Amelia Diaz Ettinger

A Girl Like Me a short story by Amelia Díaz Ettinger

May 31, 2021 by Amelia Diaz Ettinger
AI want to invite you to read a short story entitled A Girl Like Me. Read the story here:

Review of Fossils on a Red Flag by The Poetry Cafe

Apr 25, 2021 by Amelia Diaz Ettinger
I am so pleased to see a review of Fossils on a Red  Flag in Poetry Cafe written by Professor Nancy Knowles. To read the review please click here.
Reading of Fossils for Art Center East video.

Dreams and the Pandemic

Apr 24, 2021 by Amelia Diaz Ettinger
I need to make a  confession, being at home has been a mixed blessing. I have enjoyed the solitude of my home in the woods. It has given me time to do some things I wouldn't have done if my life had not stopped so abruptly. Besides writing poetry and short stories —I'm also in the middle of a novel, and getting another master's degree. 

What have you gained? What have you lost, in this time of introspection?