I want to take this time to say that I appreciated being able to read this collection of poetry. Unfortunately, I did not enjoy the writing at all and felt that it was extremely confusing. One minute I felt like I was finally getting lost in the writing in a positive way and the next minute I was like wait what's going on? I feel like politics were not portrayed whatsoever in a way that could keep the readers attention. I was really hoping to like this one but, I would sadly not recommend it to anyone.

This collection of poems from undocumented immigrants from all over the world was really eye opening. I almost enjoyed the poets' introductions of their poems more than the poetry itself but that's because poetry is still something I'm learning to fully comprehend the meaning of. I'm really glad the undocupoets is a group that exists.

thank you so much for the galley of this beautiful book. i really appreciate it and i enjoyed this one very much.

Thanks to NetGalley and Harper Perennial for the ARC!

Who do you picture when you hear the word “undocumented”?

You shouldn’t have an image in mind, but you probably do, and The Undocupoets’ brilliantly anthologized "Here to Stay" will gently but willfully complicate it at every turn, resisting the border-shaped erasure created by political discourse.

The range in themes, styles, and subject matter in this anthology serves as a necessary contrast to this kind of reductionism. Some of these pieces are formally adventurous, whereas others find their shape within the constraints of conformity. In much the same way, some of these fifty-two writers favor a dissolution of borders entirely, while others simply crave assimilation through legal status. Each poet prefaces their work with an artist’s statement, and many of these moved me to tears while also offering aesthetic context.

Hermelinda Hernandez writes about “the cold grammar of immigrant linguistics” and the dehumanizing force of government documentation.

Jan-Henry Gray describes undocumented writing as “an act of forging (something new, one hopes) and a kind of forgery.”

Elmo Tumbokon articulates the tension implicit in representation—that visibility politics is a threat: “To confess my being is to risk my safety.”

What’s most striking about the collection is how rarely these poets choose to strike back. Immigration law is codified violence, and one might expect a series of fiery poems, raging against the machine. Some of those are present here, to be sure, but so many of these poems seem to view a radical gentleness as the only way forward.

For example, Laurel Chen’s “Greensickness” is the kind of gorgeous that makes your ribcage collapse—“Let me be lawless and beloved.”

Similarly, in “The poem where ants are immigrants and I am the U.S.,” Jorge Quintana writes, “I pray that their next lives / are filled with less mercy / and more sovereignty.”

Poems like this are inarguable. They defy response (except, perhaps, for tears). They are political statements that subvert the language of power. They don’t fit into the categories prescribed by either side of the political spectrum. They can only be accepted.

I think Jane Kuo says it most clearly in her statement of poetics, inviting readers into discomfort: “My poems present the reader with a choice: come here and sit with me or choose not to be implicated, to remain on the outside, eavesdropping.”

It's such a privilege to sit with all of these poets and their art.

Thank you to Harper Perennial and Paperbacks via NetGalley for this ARC.

What a thought-provoking read. The prose and poetry through all of the artists, alongside the editors’ placing statements from each contributor about why they write to poetry opened my eyes to the many different forms living as an undocumented individual can take on a person. There was heartache, joy, and calls to radicalize against the colonial structures that harm all of us, and it is a read I highly recommend.