Joe Jimenez

Gay Chicano Joe Jimenez writes beautiful poems. I felt almost hypnotized as I heard him speak recently at Stories Cafe in Echo Park. He had just arrived after a long trip from San Antonio– and yet his words exuded an air of tranquil confidence, bewitching in their casual rhythm.

I couldn’t help wishing I could see Jimenez’ vivid, autobiographical poems translated into visual language. The wish was quickly granted when I discovered that the great Dino Dinco is fully on the same wavelength. He shot a gorgeous short film on 16mm with Jimenez last year, called “El Abuelo.” Check it out, along with a couple of Joe’s poems, after the jump.

Ovals

i.
We creep up softly to the monte obscured by
Flores Street and freeways.

Urban comets whiz above. Taillights
and the spectacle of a Tower watching out

for us.

ii.
I could change shit for you.

Stay. Dig the meaty parts of your calves
Into my shoulder blades. Sigh.

Press your feet into my throat. I could make
Ovals in the sod. Endlessly. Irrevocable

impressions, tattoos and toes.

iii.
I could make it so that you’re the only one.
Could conjure an arroyo to make mud that

will mask our tire troughs and raise the
earth-scent. The 10 has torn hapless gaps

into this photograph:

atop my bike, this colchón and my
Southside longing.

Suspension Poem under the Willful Command of a 52-Year Old Mexican Daddy

Armor of ink, cataclysmic!
Abrupt yank that’s a tug then a plea.
Absurd! I’ve shackled a countenance
To cheekbones and tripe. Phalanges
Tickle the underbelly of the heart like a hog
With no conscience. The thrill of a bigote!
Up here, the whole road afloat, awhirl—
I’m doting.