American Boy II


Blue Phonograph

You’ve stopped dreaming

Thankfully         and have stolen back

your eyes                           you’re color

you’re sure everything is a box of crayons

the blues lives here

inside the body                  this drum

and not in a record player                  the needle

is your tongue

remember her name                  you want to call out

that beautiful color

         the one that hid

                  between vineyard and whiskey

                                             for years the notes waited

for you         she whispers

you’re a man

         you ask her to say it

                  over and over again

you’re overwhelmed with vowels

         their colors so strange         yet familiar

you lick your finger                  your lips.

the sky adores you

Listen to this poem:


About Author

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, Boxcar, and Queen Mobs Teahouse among many others. He teaches English at Fresno City College and College of the Sequoias. 

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: