cultura, sepultura

me parece que parece…
que el pasado hizo, sigue haciendo su trabajo,
continúa para muchos quedando mal,
jugándose la vida por el humo de un cubano,
por el culo del futuro

me parece que perece, que ya no nos entretiene,
que los dolores se multiplican

y los dólares se antojan del presente,
del volante de su deportivo

me parece que no nos conmueve,

que los fracasos propios, los logros de los otros,
que el otoño y su primavera ante la muerte,
ante la botella de aguardiente

que la abuela nos supo guardar, supo añejar

me parece de repente que en el matadero 

al día también se le sacrifica,
a la venta se ponen sus entrañas y pestañeos,
sus mañas o ganas al menudeo y mayoreo

me parece que entristece la alegría,

que a la sabiduría le gusta lavarse las manos

c. a. campos, 2012

sunday

i’ve been leaf picking for some hours, for some hours searching for tangible evidence,

clearing the backyard for my son, his soccer, for the winter that’s upon us,

compromising my back & my nose, my unseasonal allergies,

filling bag after bag with leaves, branches, with the aftermath of fall’s annual beauty pageant,  

hoping fruitlessly but not needlessly, while getting down & dirty,

to bump into an untapped supply of happiness & not just worms, rocks, & broken glass

i’m almost done & the backyard is slowly starting to look up to par

but my body has also started to ache, to fuss, to wane,  

to wish it were that easy to see results in other areas of life after merely a few hours

of work, of commitment,

if i were a woman i would be screaming by now for a shower & a manicure

c. a. campos, 2012

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 

cape cod

water recedes & the beach goes bald, becomes a swamp,

reminds you of what we’re doing to the environment,

to ourselves

you stroll a good kilometer with your better half

before reaching its waters,

clear (seaweed notwithstanding) & bone-chilling 

like a truth serum

bodies adjust, lines of demarcation,

so, too, expectations, 

the exclusions or exceptions of the past

not far, you see that some are laughing, swimming,

have been braved despite recent shark attacks,

despite the conclusions, the holes we keep digging 

or falling into

you don’t know what to add or take back,

nor how to put into words what you don’t know

you’d like to share with your partner,

thus the two of you keep on strolling farther in,

the water now at your knees

traction in sand is practically nonexistent

& the sun’s hard to stare down,  

but iodine is what you came here to breathe in 

c. a. campos, 2012

post-coital tristesse

what amount of novelty is required to crack a smile from time to time?

should novelty be available over-the-counter in extended-release tablets?

why do women get away with big ears & men do not?

does hair volume have anything to do with this?

now that my old friend is close to conformity or indifference,

close to not minding not making it to point B or point C,
he asks himself questions to kill time,

he bothers his friends

since he’s unable to help himself after all the years on the road, 

all the weekends at our local public library

is experience favorite snack our enthusiasm?

shouldn’t it first munch for years on midnight delight or mochi ice cream? 

shouldn’t it drink someone else’s kool-aid & get fat or go bald 

before going for our jugular?

his counterproductive, not counterculture, question marks themselves being side effects, 

along with his private bouts with anhedonia, with acceptance, 

withdrawal symptoms 

now that i think about it, now that i too have cut back on alcohol & caffeine

should we perform CPR on the future? would it be more cost-effective to let it die?

is sleeping a good hobby to pick up, a good second career to consider?

how about counting sheep?

what are we supposed to do in a world of misplaced exclamation points?

in a world when answers start to go extinct?

should we take a cue from jazz musicians & improvise?

  

c. a. campos, 2012