when the poor die and that’s it
and the rich inherit and that’s it
that is: when everything goes back to normal
and in the sea the fish get tangled in masks
and bottles of hand sanitizer
and packets of instant soup that are cooked
on petroleum jets
or that is: when everything goes back to normal
and the sky is red with gases and particulate
and birds about to become extinct plummet on top of endangered species
that are rotting on top of other animals on their way to extinction
like cold cuts and ham in a sandwich
that is: when everything goes back to normal
and pedophiles resume their ritual acts
murderers clean their weapons with the saliva of their victims
and get orgasms with cadavers and banknotes
that is: when everything goes back to normal
and we go looking for love drugs jobs debts
or anything that makes you feel alive
or motivated to end your existence
the enemies of power will become enraged because they don’t have it
and those who love power will love it so much
imagining that it is a scientific discovery
ignoring that the flies that buzz around us
sniff us like appetizing shit
that is: when everything goes back to normal
( from the book the mantle of dew over the flowers is ventilator-assisted)
I was one of those who didn’t reach for paper or gel or chlorine or Lysol
neither for beer or pantries or loans or n95 masks
but I reached for the last piece of meat
at the neighborhood barbecue organized
to celebrate the flattening of the curve
and there I saw the dealer I had been haggling with just a few minutes before
I greeted him but he didn’t recognize me
so I put on my mask
and he exclaimed as he smiled: ah, it is you!
and I smiled too but maybe he didn’t realize it
( from the book the hypocritical contagion of insurgent happiness)
you do not need anyone to ruin your life
(that attitude is supposedly clever or sophisticated
but is fake as obsession )
usually problems with people arise out of nervousness
and not because we are disposable
but rather because there is no room for that
If we die and rot there is no mess
and it is the straws who shall inherit the earth
(your poop and mine could be useful for the planet
but the straws that are only used for stirring ice cubes in gin and tonic
or annoy them in a soda
are going to last longer than us)
: at the end, the planet will get rid of what it has no use for
and will turn us into a vain haze in the cosmos
and by then enough millions of years shall have passed for glass
and plastic and Styrofoam to disappear
or transform
and earth shall continue to turn exorbitant
in a human tantrum trying to stay in some form of memory
(even a flash-drive):
we are dinosaurs who get worried upon seeing the meteor coming to destroy us
and we continue creating expectations among the majority
forgetting that we met while escaping from an explosion looking for quiet
and then we shall flee from the fire that we ourselves caused
insulting mutilating fucking with slandering the assassinated and eroding
while believing that we are saving
( from the book: the snot that supports this virus is drying up)
José Eugenio Sanchez / Jalisco, 1965 is a poet. Author of the books Jack boner & the rebellion (Almadìa, 2014), Suite prelude: a/h1n1 (Toad Press, Los Angeles California 2011), Galaxy limited café (Almadía, 2011), Escenas sagradas del oriente (Almadía, 2009) La felicidad es una pistola caliente (Visor, 2004) and Physical Graffiti ((X Premio Internacional de Poesía de la Fundación Loewe a la Creación Joven, Visor, 1998). He was a member of the Sistema Nacional de Creadores de Arte del Fonca and was invited by the International Writing Program at the University of Iowa, where he earned the title of Honorary Fellow Writer.
Cover art by Nicoletta Lofoco.
