pasaje, paisaje, pasajero

me gustaría agarrarle el culo a esa tipa

pero tengo miedo de que vaya

a gustarle

c. a. campos, 2012

weltschmerz

la lluvia toca a la puerta, 

me pide que la deje entrar

yo titubeo, no me gusta la gente

que se invita por sí sola

pero por el baho, por el bajo

ella sabe que me encuentro en casa

además: está al tanto de mi relación 

comprometedora con el sol

yo le paso una toalla,

no quiero que vaya a resfriarse

y pongo la emisora, 

el café 

me dispongo a celebrar 

sus chistes por enésima vez 

c. a. campos, 2012

ruminations

self-preservation: i quarantine certain memories,

certain aspirations. it’s monday & it’s harder to buy

(even when on sale) what i’m selling 

so i look the other way & keep my wallet in my pocket.

the world spins & spins: dizziness its natural state,

& it seems like it’s set on winning in musical chairs,

on outlasting our spinning tops.

walking always does me good: moving closer, farther;

going somewhere, getting nowhere;

as well as filling in the background, the foreground

with my headphones, with a book,

with something other than my own projections.

like wild animals, some questions have to be subdued

in order to keep the internal machinery in check,

need to be placed, like inmates, in solitary confinement

so that we can talk behind their backs.

monday is no day at the beach nor is friday a day to sign up: 

one’s too liberal in the latter, too conservative in the former; 

either too carefree or too sensitive to the light.

raindrops are nature’s paratroopers 

but who or what are they trying to save, to divide & conquer? 

& are they singular (each drop) 

or plural 

like our half-truths or anything else under the microscope?

staring out the window, i make a mental note with my sharpie

(women are my favorite visual aid) 

& in between the mist

i breathe in & breathe out, breathe out & breathe in:

isn’t it swell that this pulmonary enterprise, exercise 

isn’t entirely up to us?

c. a. campos, 2012