BIO
David Campos, a CantoMundo fellow, is the author of Furious Dusk (Notre Dame Press 2015), winner of the Andres Monotya Poetry Prize. His poems have appeared in The American Poetry Review, Luna Luna, and Boxcar among many others. He teaches English at Fresno City College and College of the Sequoias.
webpage: www.davidcampos.com
Juan Means Juan is Juan
1. Home
When Juan’s home doesn’t want Juan
but Juan doesn’t belong to the home
they would like to send Juan back too
home becomes just another word
exiled from Juan’s vocabulary
all the letters rounded up
their syllables too
and put on busses
H sobbed silently while looking out the window
O held its syllable close
M thought of all the words she could have been a part of
E rested knowing he’d be back again.
But E was smart enough to close his eyes
and unremember his first crossing
of the larynx and past the tongue
out into the wind’s embrace.
Does the wind have a ____?
a place where it can wash itself,
build a fire, cook a meal
of feathers and leaves?
Juan has prayed in church with open windows
where prayers sprouted wings
and flew with the wind south for the winter
and came back north in the spring
picking through scraps
other people’s trash
twigs and plastic ribbons
to nest somewhere and hopefully
deliver its hope of a ____.
But just because Juan has a roof
and a ceiling with a fan
and walls with light switches
and holes for cockroaches
and spider webs with daddy long legs
and a black widow curling its web to lay its eggs
and a little dog that barks
at the children outside playing tag
children with names like Juan
Juanita, Juan Carlos, Juan Gabriele
the roof and ceiling
and everything that skitters and scatters
dances and sits and walks and kneels and begs
is not his. He rents his agony
and only owns the small doses of relief
in the soft, soft pillow he can call his own.
2. The Four Winds
In this ____, the doors open
to all the winds’ directions–
Patience comes from the east
and smells first of fury
and then molten iron
cooled in artic waters.
It looks like Juan father’s face
after he passed.
Agony comes from the west
full of swagger
and wearing too much cologne,
and when Juan feels it
swing through his hair,
he’ll remember the lice
that wait to eat
until he sleeps.
Ambition calls down from the north,
and it’s perfect for flying kites
that wont twirl and tangle
in its gusts; it’s direction clear
and as fulfilling as a glass of water.
But the south brings with it everything,
and Juan never knows the news it will bring.
And Juan always waits at the precipice
leaning against the doorway
letting its frame hold him up
because sometimes he needs it to.
Other times, he does it out of habit.
In this ____, the doors are always open,
and Juan can be caught dreaming
in one of the entryways.
But most days, on most days
Juan can’t stand the love
contained in just a wisp of a breeze
so simple and innocent Juan thinks
it a kiss on the cheek from his daughter
welcoming him ____.
3. Vocabulary
Juan learns that hello means hola
and buenos dias means good morning
and not good days or good day.
Juan learns double meanings
when he’s told to suck cock.
But this he learned fast,
he had to- la migra means immigration;
hielo means ice,
but I.C.E. means running
or it is too late
and the money will stop going
and dreams will dig their graves
and cement and chisel their own headstones.
Yet, even though Juan knows Juan means Juan
and even though Juan knows he laid the cement
and nailed the drywall to the lumber,
just like his brother said,
using magnets inside of hammers
to make hanging ceilings easier,
and even though Juan knows all the faults
contained within the skeleton
the weak spots inside the muscles,
the tears, the lack of oxygen, the acid
and even though Juan was the only one who could repair
the damage done, plaster the holes
re-drywall, texture, and paint
and even though he isn’t allowed to take
any of the credit, and even though
he stepped on a nail and worked for 20 years
with dust in his blood
sawing out windows and securing walls,
Juan has no say in who gets to call this ____.
Juan knows quiet means callado.
But Juan knows Juan means
Juan means there is no translation
for what it means to be humano.
4. Training Days
Juan, sit down.
Juan, get in line.
Juan, go play.
Juan, don’t use a pen.
Use a pencil.
You can erase this way.
Juan, stand up.
Juan, salute the flag.
Juan, say after me
I pledge allegiance
to the flag of the United States…
Juan, sit down.
Juan, stop talking out of turn.
Juan, tell me what you did.
Juan, this room is for confession,
this is how you’re saved.
Juan, kneel down and say 15 Our Fathers.
Juan, also say 25 Hail Marys.
Juan, get in line for communion
and take a bite of salvation.
Juan, respect your mother.
Juan, respect your father.
Juan, respect your elders.
Juan, stop talking back.
There is no need to get angry,
You can’t speak Spanish
where ever you want.
Juan, but your teacher demands respect.
Juan, obey your teachers.
Juan, why did you do that?
Can you explain to me why
you chose to hurt this way?
Juan, they’re coming for you.
Juan, put your hands where I can see them.
Juan, could you tell me what happened here?
Juan, I’m here to help you.
Get in the back of the car.
You have the right to remain…
Juan, sit down and get in line.
Juan, wear this suit to court.
Juan, you’ll be held in contempt.
Juan, just wait for your turn to speak
Hasn’t your mouth gotten you in enough trouble?
Juan, what did I do wrong with you?
Juan, why do you have to be this way?
Juan, I love you.
Juan, we love you.
Juan, why did you snitch
on them? Cant you see
they’re afraid of their own terrors?
Juan, urinate into this cup.
Juan, we’re not hiring right now.
Juan, do you have papers?
Juan, I’m sorry we can’t help you.
There is nothing we can do.
Please, Juan, sit down,
get in line, and wait for your turn
to speak.
5. Visita
Juan on top of trains.
The sun darkens his skin.
The metal is ____.
He lays and covers himself
with scraps of tarp and plastic.
They’re warmer than blankets.
In the desert night,
cold is just another visitor
Juan tends to
just like his mother taught him;
offer them something to drink;
offer them something to eat.
And he did, every night
as he stared at the stars.
He gave it his warmth
and fogging breath,
his dried and cracked lips.
He gave it all his comfort–
the shirt on his back,
the loose change he hid
in the bundle of his clothes.
And that too he gave
until he was naked
and shivering. Newborn
on a train car. Still, the cold wanted
more. Unsatisfied, it took
a lump of hair and then one dream–
his daughter not working like him
bent over and picking food
for other people.
And then it took another–
his wife resting on a porch
inside a house he called ____.
Cold had no shame in asking.
Sensing weakness it just took.
And he gave. He gave
until all the stars were gone
and the metal of the train
wanted rent too.
But he’d already given everything
that had any worth. And so Juan
walked the rest of the way
wondering if he’d every find a ____,
wondering if the place he was going to
had been taught the same thing
about tending to company.
And so Juan gave it hope,
the the one thing he held on to
the way stars cling to their light
and wishes made upon them,
all that made Juan shimmer
and shine. And Juan whose name means Juan
whose ____ is just a body
whose breath is all the wind
and silence, who gave all his dreams
and clothes and words and fire
arrives and asks for nothing.
and still it took the J
and jailed the U
and beat the A
and hushed the N.
And ____ whose name means ____
whose ____ is just a body
is just a body, a thing
like many things
we’ve learned to love
and unlove with ease
has finally found a ____ here,
right here in your burning home.