off-key

these are the wrong notes,
not the right ones
as you by now must have realized

the wrong ones,
if you must also know,
since the right ones haven’t worked out

nature letting her hair grow too long
or shaving it
as if she were in mourning

the sun distancing himself
or coming closer
and violating somebody’s private space

the moon not feeling shortchanged
or left out
but right at home in obscurity

these are the bars of the song,
participation
or improvisation is encouraged

c. a. campos, 2009.

facetious

till further notice
the water fountain is tired of the coins,
of the wishing

it would like a nice break
from thursdays wishing to be hippier, to be fridays,
from sundays, after so much god talk,
deep down regretting being a prelude to work,
being a prelude to monday morning blues
or to people calling in sick to the office

it would like not to hear for a few days
from a good portion of the population,
from the greed of more money,
more toys, more shoes, or more sleeping partners,
from the left hand & its wish for the right hand
to stop pointing the finger in its direction,
for the right to own up
to a sizable, sinkable chunk of the blame,
of the responsibility

the more coins we drop in it,
the more we hope, we bargain before its presence
the dirtier its water becomes,
the more the water fountain turns a deaf ear
& craves for a shower,
rushes for a tourniquet, rushes to be flushed,
wishes for a lever to resort to
like the one the toilet bowl comes along with

the water fountain is sick of being set up to fail,
of not being able to come through,
sick of having to pardon our appearance,
of being used as an accessory, a mirror

narcissus’s name is on its most wanted list

c. a. campos, 2012

window shopping

the glass is perfect,
half full & half empty,
half under water, half up in the air,
half tempting & half disappointing

the glass's a cousin of the mirror,
an unknown relative of perception,
of the unearth-shattering,
malleable truth

it matters little the intent,
the calories, the alcohol content,
the glass impartially
soothes & bruises you: cheers!

c. a. campos, 2012

smoke & mirrors

i get a kick out of making others go to the dictionary,
go to google or to wikipedia,
out of finding my niche off the books,
in the everyday, commonplace acts of daydreaming,
of sugarcoating most of life
even though i’m no fan of sugar, no fan of sci-fi

i get a kick out of counting the last pages of a read,
out of keeping an eye on the sake, on the flesh,
on the moon whenever sleep is of no help
so as to make sure that the moon isn’t contemplating
jetting out on the ocean,
jetting out on some lunatic because of medication

i get a kick out of being a prick, in other words,
out of making any yes come across as a no,
out of making myself unapproachable, untranslatable,
out of doing what’s asked & expected
so that later on in life it’ll be less of a chance
of others interrupting me,
of others noticing the rabbit hole in the wall

i get a kick out of improvisation, out of songs
that are lowered little by little so as to simulate an ending,
so as to cover the fact that the musician wasn’t able
to work out an ending,
work out a compromise with what he or she
had promised to deliver,
had promised to work on after the performance

i get a kick out of not knowing how to explain pain
to a doctor, how to explain conformity to a dream,
out of rereading & or multiple listening experiences
since it takes so much to convince me,
for me to approve any reasonable course of action

c. a. campos, 2012

adiós

ellos han ganado la partida,
esperaba la derrota, eso es cierto,
pero no tan pronto,
no sin antes descubrirla por mi cuenta

el por qué, el para qué
y el otro porqué gramatical
como el café y el futuro ya no me hacen efecto,
ni fu ni fa aun cuando me lo impongo,
aun cuando me lo propongo

ellos la ganaron con dificultad (nimia razón
para sentir orgullo),
yo la he perdido
aunque no corra la suerte del herido,
la suerte del que se sana o se muere,
del que se escapa o se disfraza
de héroe o de víctima

fuegos fatuos, cómo no incitarlos,
no enviarles un giro postal,
cómo no avivar a las células cancerosas
de la verdad, de la novedad

la guerra fría la ganaron con los monosílabos
para alentar, desahogar a la respiración,
con las esdrújulas, sobresdrújulas
para que yo llegase sin aire,
con la lengua fuera a la rima,
a la sima o más nunca, jamás a la cima

la esperaba, la noticia, eso es cierto,
aunque soñase con victoria,
con la historia y sus pseudoproblemas, pseudosoluciones,
aunque soñase con la ketamina
o el escondite de alicia

c. a. campos, 2012