#Eduardo c. corral

[geryone]

Guillotine, Eduardo C. Corral

[smokefalls]

Desire with no future, / bitter longing— / I starve myself by yearning / for intimacy that doesn’t / & won’t exist.

Eduardo C. Corral, "Autobiography of My Hungers" from Guillotine

[ceeturnalia]

In Colorado My Father Scoured and Stacked Dishes

in a Tex-Mex restaurant. His co-workers, unable to utter his name, renamed him Jalapeño.

If I ask for a goldfish, he spits a glob of phlegm into a jar of water. The silver letters

on his black belt spell Sangrón. Once, borracho, at dinner, he said: Jesus wasn’t a snowman.

Arriba Durango. Arriba Orizaba. Packed into a car trunk, he was smuggled into the States.

Frijolero. Greaser. In Tucson he branded cattle. He slept in a stable. The horse blankets

oddly fragrant: wood smoke, lilac. He’s an illegal. I’m an Illegal-American. Once, in a grove

of saguaro, at dusk, I slept next to him. I woke with his thumb in my mouth. ¿No qué no

tronabas, pistolita? He learned English by listening to the radio. The first four words

he memorized: In God We Trust. The fifth: Percolate. Again and again I borrow his clothes.

He calls me Scarecrow. In Oregon he picked apples. Braeburn. Jonagold. Cameo. Nightly,

to entertain his cuates, around a campfire, he strummed a guitarra, sang corridos. Arriba

Durango. Arriba Orizaba. Packed into a car trunk, he was smuggled into the States.

Greaser. Beaner. Once, borracho, at breakfast, he said: The heart can only be broken

once, like a window. ¡No mames! His favorite belt buckle: an águila perched on a nopal.

If he laughs out loud, his hands tremble. Bugs Bunny wants to deport him. César Chávez

wants to deport him. When I walk through the desert, I wear his shirt. The gaze of the moon

stitches the buttons of his shirt to my skin. The snake hisses. The snake is torn.

— Eduardo C. Corral

[headlightsforever]

Eduardo C. Corral, “Poem After Frida Kahlo’s Painting The Broken Column”, Slow Lightning, Yale Series of Younger Poets, 2012

[agirlnamedbone]

—Eduardo C. Corral (Slow Lightning, 2012)

[spoke9]

Eduardo C. Corral

Lines Written at Federico García Lorca Park

In the cage of my thumbprint I keep my third wish

                                                             acoustic winter

Rain undresses music rain undresses his voice

                                               arrow & minaret

Beneath my palm the wiry fur of lust

                                          open body open

A wound is a self-reporting instrument

                                                   silver filigree

I sleep with his face under my tongue

                                       scab on water

[t0rschlusspan1k]

Desire with no future, bitter longing — I starve myself by yearning for intimacy that doesn't and won't exist.

Eduardo C. Corral, Autobiography of My Hungers, from "Guillotine: Poems" (2020)

[poetrybypoc]

- from Autobiography of My Hungers | Eduardo C. Corral

[arcanespillo]

Còrdoba, Eduardo C. Corral

[geryone]

Guillotine, Eduardo C. Corral

[smokefalls]

How did you make it through those days? When you hurt, you’re not completely in the world.

Eduardo C. Corral, "1707 San Joaquin Avenue" from Guillotine

[emilieideas]

Guillotine, Eduardo C. Corral (2020)

To Francisco X. Alarcon

"Some Mesoamerican elders / believed there's a fifth direction. // Not the sky or the ground / but the person right next to you."

//

Lines Written at Federico Garcia Lorca Park

"Beneath my palm the wiry fur of lust"

//

Black Water

"Furred with frost / & lust, / it howls."

[headlightsforever]

Eduardo C. Corral, “The Blindfold” from Slow Lightning, Yale Series of Younger Poets, 2012

[queerographies]

[Ghigliottina][Eduardo C. Corral]

"Ghigliottina" di Eduardo C. Corral ci trasporta nei deserti inospitali, dove i sogni di una vita migliore si scontrano con la cruda realtà del confine. Un viaggio emozionante attraverso le storie di migranti, tra dolore, speranza e la lotta per l'identit

Ghigliottina: Un viaggio attraverso il confine, tra le parole di Eduardo C. Corral Titolo: Ghigliottina Scritto da: Eduardo C. CorralTitolo originale: GuillotineTradotto da: Massimo BocchiolaEdito da: La nave di TeseoAnno: 2024Pagine: 176ISBN: 9788834619551 La sinossi di Ghigliottina di Eduardo C. Corral Ghigliottina racconta i paesaggi desertici attraversati dai migranti, il dolore della…

[manwalksintobar]

In Colorado My Father Scoured and Stacked Dishes // Eduardo C. Corral

in a Tex-Mex restaurant. His co-workers, unable to utter his name, renamed him Jalapeño. If I ask for a goldfish, he spits a glob of phlegm into a jar of water. The silver letters on his black belt spell Sangrón. Once, borracho, at dinner, he said: Jesus wasn’t a snowman. Arriba Durango. Arriba Orizaba. Packed into a car trunk, he was smuggled into the States. Frijolero. Greaser. In Tucson he branded cattle. He slept in a stable. The horse blankets oddly fragrant: wood smoke, lilac. He’s an illegal. I’m an Illegal-American. Once, in a grove of saguaro, at dusk, I slept next to him. I woke with his thumb in my mouth. ¿No qué no tronabas, pistolita? He learned English by listening to the radio. The first four words he memorized: In God We Trust. The fifth: Percolate. Again and again I borrow his clothes. He calls me Scarecrow. In Oregon he picked apples. Braeburn. Jonagold. Cameo. Nightly, to entertain his cuates, around a campfire, he strummed a guitarra, sang corridos. Arriba Durango. Arriba Orizaba. Packed into a car trunk, he was smuggled into the States. Greaser. Beaner. Once, borracho, at breakfast, he said: The heart can only be broken once, like a window. ¡No mames! His favorite belt buckle: an águila perched on a nopal. If he laughs out loud, his hands tremble. Bugs Bunny wants to deport him. César Chávez wants to deport him. When I walk through the desert, I wear his shirt. The gaze of the moon stitches the buttons of his shirt to my skin. The snake hisses. The snake is torn.

[alexandrarchive]

sinking my teeth into these poetry collections again ☀