Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal lives in California and works in Los Angeles. His poems, art, and photographs have appeared in Blue Collar Review, Escape Into Life, Medusa's Kitchen, and Yellow Mama Webzine. His most recent poetry book, Make the Water Laugh, was published by Rogue Wolf Press. Luis recommends St. Jude Children's Research Hospital.

They fly into the sea
like a ghost's imagination
and its bewildered dream.
Upon the shore for a brief time
their songs echo, skip

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released to his
own care after
promising to
take medicine,
a promise he
​is sure to break

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Blue was swallowed by night.
Red flower became black flower.
Day was overcome
and still all was beautiful.

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It is getting to be a little bit
too much. Things are getting
a bit out of hand. I do not
want to make excuses. Life
is getting the best of me.

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Poets, Whitman depends on you
for he cannot return but turn over
in his grave. Purge your words
and make a stand for freedom.

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I spotted
my minuscule twin,
and I blew
the dirt off, my twin

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At the tree funeral
you will find no one
reading from the Good Book.

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I had to get
the haircut though.
Its rocking days
are all over.

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Wanton winds,
take my broken songs 
to the riverside
and let them drown.
I need room
for new songs of hope.

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Turn up the voltage 
and burn out the light bulbs.
Step off the pedestal
and conform to nothing.

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I shuffle the deck
and the world lays flat.
The bluer the sky the darker
astronomy becomes.

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I will walk on my own, stand on
my own two feet, keep my distance
always. I cannot swallow what
she attempts to serve.  I must
look out for my best interests.

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The house wants some
conversation or a song
to fill its spaces.  The night
remains quiet.  I discover
a certain jealousy. 

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