cover art by
Guillotine
Graywolf Press, 2020
In the sequence “Testaments Scratched into a Water Station Barrel,” with Corral’s seamless integration of Spanish and English, poems curve around the surfaces upon which they are written, overlapping like graffiti left by those who may or may not have survived crossing the border. A harrowing second collection, Guillotine solidifies Corral’s place in the expanding ecosystem of American poetry.
PURCHASE:
Apá, dying is boring. To pass las horas,
I carve
our last name
all over my body.
I try to recall the taste of Pablo’s sweat.
Whiskey, no.
Wet dirt, sí.
I stuff English
into my mouth, spit out chingaderas.
Have it your way.
Home of the Whopper.
Run
for the border. ¡Aguas! The mirror
betrayed us.
—from “Testaments Scratched into a Water Station Barrel”
PRAISE
“Brief, pungent, perfectly crafted lines create a nightmarish atmosphere surrounding border crossings. . . . The images rushing down these pages in tightly paced cadence take readers on a haunting journey, with Corral’s impressionism delivering more than taut realism ever could.”
—Library Journal, starred review
“Devastating and electrifying. . . . Shot through with the dark realities of human tragedy, Corral’s latest is a virtuosic compendium of grief."
—Publishers Weekly, starred review
“No matter what his subject, Corral is a gifted storyteller, precise and dizzying with his imagery.”
—The Millions
“A master artist. . . . Only a poet as skilled as Corral could connect rejection from the US nation-state with unrequited love to such effect. Carefully code switching between Spanish and English, Corral is a poet to be studied for his radical contributions to the American canon.”
—Natalie Scenters-Zapico