#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

[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

[typewriter-worries]

[ Text ID: An apple in my mouth. I know what Eve didn't know: a serpent is a fruit eaten to the core. I'm a massacre. ]

Slow Lightning, Eduardo C. Corral

[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…

[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

[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.

[headlightsforever]

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

[alexandrarchive]

sinking my teeth into these poetry collections again ☀

[emrwwy]

Eduardo C. Corral, To the Angelbeast

Richard Siken, 'Little Beast' from Crush

Mary Oliver, 'Night and the River' from Red Bird

Mary Oliver, 'Wild Geese'

[ukdamo]

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 favourite 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.

[llovelymoonn]

favourite poems of february

avery r. young peestain

claudine toutoungi future perfect

david rivard bewitched playground: "not guilty"

brian kim stefans the future is one of place

lisa gill post-traumatic rainstorm

clare pollard pinocchios

rebecca lindenberg love, an index: "catalogue of ephemera"

etel adnan the arab apocalypse: "xxxvi"

stanley moss god breaketh not all men's hearts alike: "a blind fisherman"

robert browning an epistle containing the strange medical experience of karshish, the arab physician

tom sleigh beirut tank

khaled mattawa ismailia eclipse: "date palm trinity"

mark levine unemployment (3)

lucia cherciu butter, olive oil, flour

reginald shepherd fata morgana: "you, therefore"

john updike claremont hotel, southwest harbour, maine

bruce smith the other lover: "february sky"

johnny cash forever words: the unknown poems: "don't make a movie about me"

eamon grennan what light there is & other poems: "jewel box"

eduardo c. corral in colorado my father scoured and stacked dishes

thomas mccarthy the beginning of colour

divya victor curb: "blood / soil"

henneh kyereh kwaku in praise

joanna fuhrman to a new era: "lavender"

rosemary catacalos sight unseen

sam willetts digging

megan fernandes winter

jaswinder bolina the plague on tv

juan felipe herrera notes on the assemblage: "almost livin' almost dyin'"

kofi