SATURDAY POETRY SERIES PRESENTS: MARTIN CAMPS



MOSQUITOES
By Martin Camps

Mosquitoes do not die of hunger.

There is always a leg for them

an arm or a deaf ear to their hungry voice.

You will never see the aged corpse of a gnat.

They only know about violent death:

of a body burst by a slap,

by a discharge of light or by air poisoning.

They will sink the day they find out they can

walk on the water.


(“Mosquitos” appears here today with permission from the poet.)


Martin Camps has published three books of poetry in Spanish: Desierto Sol (Desert Sun, 2003), La invencion del mundo (The Invention of the World, 2008), and La extincion de los atardeceres (The Extintion of Twilight, 2009). Has is the recipient of two poetry prizes from the Institute of Culture of Mexico and an Honorable Mention in the Bi-National Poetry Prize Pellicer-Frost in 1999. His poems have been published in The Bitter Oleander (Pemmican Press), Alforja, and Tierra Adentro, among others. He answers all email at markampz@hotmail.com.

Editor’s Note: Martin Camps is among my all-time favorite poets. His work never ceases to be breathtaking in its form, its function, and–especially–its sound. The way Camps plays with language appears, in some ways, to stem more from his Spanish-speaking roots than from an experimental poetry slant, and the effects simply blow me away. And then, of course, in all his poetic brilliance, he concludes with an epic end-line.

Want to see more by and about Martin Camps?
Email markampz@hotmail.com to buy his books directly from the poet for $6 each.
See an alternate version of today’s poem: Mosquitoes

Peticao a NASA
La Belleza de No Pensar

SATURDAY POETRY SERIES PRESENTS: MARTIN CAMPS

By Martin Camps:

DO YOU STILL WRITE POETRY?

They ask
               sometimes
as if it were a demise
in need
           of a cure
No one asks a doctor
are you still curing people?
             Yes,
I have not
been cured at all.


PERSISTENCE OF WATER

Poetry is not carried in vessels of mud.
I said: I will stop writing, one or two years,
Let poetry speak through other mouths.
I will forget. I will not be called a poet.
Now I will be a teacher, a laborer, an employee.
I will not listen to the inner anthill,
this noise of sheets waved by the wind.
But poetry finds its way,
Like water that filters through
a wall of plaster.
And to begins again,
as if from fear, to suffocate
the noise of the leaves.
Poetry does not spill like wine,
it is not exchanged for thirty silver coins,
it does not even hide like talents in the ground.
Poetry shatters your mouth.


T. REX AT THE ACADEMY OF SCIENCES

How
hungry
time
is
to
leave
us
these
clean
bones


Martin Camps has published three books of poetry in Spanish: Desierto Sol (Desert Sun, 2003), La invencion del mundo (The Invention of the World, 2008), and La extincion de los atardeceres (The Extintion of Twilight, 2009). Has is the recipient of two poetry prizes from the Institute of Culture of Mexico and an Honorable Mention in the Bi-National Poetry Prize Pellicer-Frost in 1999. His poems have been published in The Bitter Oleander (Pemmican Press), Alforja, and Tierra Adentro, among others. He answers all email at markampz@hotmail.com.

Editor’s Note: Martin is one of the most innovative poets I know. I have seen his poems in video format, power point, as if an investment brochure, and laid out on the page so that form mirrors meaning. Sometimes political, often comedic, and always heartbreakingly good, Martin masterfully illuminates both his own experience and that of the Poet at large.

Want more of Martin Camps?

Buy his books online, or email markampz@hotmail.com to buy them directly from the poet for $6 each.
Peticao a NASA
La Belleza de No Pensar
Mosquitoes