When I recently met poet David A. Romero in Los Angeles, it was one of those brief yet magnetic encounters that stays with you. We didn’t talk much at first, but I knew instantly I had to buy his book. On my flight back to Austin, I opened Yo soy Romero—and found myself in it.
Page after page, his words resonated: about names, heritage, and the creative spark that survives through generations. When I wrote to tell him how much I connected with it, David replied with warmth and surprise—he hadn’t realized I was also a Romero until after I’d left. “I always like to make a big deal about it!” He said.
“I always like to make a big deal about it!”
David A. Romero
We laughed, realizing we were true tocayos—David Anthony and Antonio Romero—two artists carrying the same name into different mediums.
That coincidence, small and cosmic at once, became the seed for this reflection. I also coincided with Tina Romero at the Buried Alive Film Fest, where Creature Fear, a horror film I scored, had its premiere. I saw her at the writers’ panel, alongside five more fantastic writers who generously shared insights about their craft.
Inspiration from “My Name Is Romero”
David’s poem “My Name Is Romero” powerfully explores Latin identity, family legacy, and pride. Through rhythm and repetition, he transforms his surname into a symbol of belonging and perseverance—a chant for those who refuse to be erased.
“My name is David A. Romero, like David, a Romero…
DAvid A. ROmero
My way of showing that I am just one among many Romeros”
That declaration lingers, calling others who share the name to join the echo.
My Own Take: “We Are Romeros”
I am A. Romero —like David, a Romero…. who wields words like thunder—shaking the page and remaking memory
like Frank, who exploded color and Chicano pride onto the civic bones of East LA
like George, who gave the dead new life and changed the language of horror forever
like Cesar, who danced through golden-age Hollywood and laughed first as the Joker
like Aldemaro, who scored Venezuela’s heartbeat into Onda Nueva
like Celedonio and Pepe, who made guitars speak in family
like Cara, who captures identity in frames of light and reclamation
like Tina, who reclaimed horror with humor, queerness, and defiance
like all the Romeros invoking brush, pen, lens, track, and reel
And here—composer, sound alchemist, sculptor of air I join this echo, shaping something new from silence, giving form to the unseen
We are Romeros.
A Shared Legacy
Meeting David wasn’t just about finding another artist—it was about recognizing the thread that runs through us. From Chicano muralist Frank Romero to horror visionary George A. Romero, from poets and potters to guitar virtuosos, the Romeros have painted, filmed, sung, and spoken their way into the fabric of cultural history.
Standing in Los Angeles, surrounded by murals, city noise, and memory, I felt it—the name isn’t just inherited, it’s alive. It’s an ongoing project of creation, reflection, and reinvention.
“I am A. Romero…
Antonio Romero
And here—composer, sound alchemist, sculptor of air—
I join this echo, shaping something new from silence,
giving form to the unseen
Sometimes the smallest encounters reveal the biggest truths.
Meeting another Romero reminded me that art isn’t a competition of voices—it’s a chorus.
The music grows richer as Marcus and Vera, my kids and world-class musicians, channel their own brilliance and carve their own paths to leave a mark—our story unfolding note by note.
We are Romeros.
