The poetry of Cecilio Garcia-Camarillo though
overshadowed by his work as publisher,editor
and catalyst for the Chicano Literary Renaissance
should not be forgotten and should not diminish
the importance of his poetic production.


foto 8

the chiaroscuro approach to your fate
positions remnant of your profile
always looking at the desert
still locked in the arrogance
of a will that believes
it’s at peace with itself

in the blackness clouds barely visible
bunched together to burst
in a violent rain

you tell me
with a cup of hot tea
that you dreamt a shower of cluster bombs
worming through the huge stillness
of a moonless night

who was dropping the bombs

it’s not important
the world is full of despots
who hate the desert

who did the bombs kill

don’t know it could have been you or me

were you afraid of the bombs

no I was very angry at them

the bombs or the men
who dropped them

actually I was still angry at you

why

because you’re so incomplete
and you can’t see it

who’s perfect
but you know the real problem
is your obsession to recreate me
in your own image

you never make any sense

are you still angry at me

I’ll always be angry at you
there’s no going back
on the decisions I’ve made

a speck of light flutters
off your iris

I can almost smell the sand
that will never be wet

destiny is at work
you tell me
and my destiny’s not with you

I have trouble seeing myself
without you
but I suppose I’ll get used to it

you’re so casual

and you’re so angry

I’m angry at the lost years
I could have written novels

but you were always too busy drinking

it helps my thinking
but you’re fucked up
and can’t understand

you’re the best I’ve ever known
at rationalizing

you’re so small-minded
why didn’t I see it from the beginning
there was an instant
when I actually thought
we could’ve conquered
the whole literary world

you’re drunk

and you’ve always been fucking scared
of success
but what has happened is history
and now I’m at another level
you say
turning towards the desert

I take long deep breaths
and my mind intertwines with the darkness

whatever happens I will always love you

it’s better if you love this desert
which is a mirror of my soul
and now go home and sleep querido

if you really love me go
go forever

and you kiss me

you take my face in your hands
then push your tongue
down my throat

as I leave my hot and dry room
that’s turning me into an insomniac
I taste your mouth
and desire the profundity of night

before I close the door
I notice for the first time
that the sand is underexposed
and then I feel
the first drops of an icy rain

22 enero 91
by cecilio garcia-camarillo