Sunday, December 2, 2007

Poetry by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

Two Poems
by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal


I don't want to hurt anyone.
I scream at the wind.
I work at the cemetery.
I gather dead roses in bags.

Can you read my thoughts?
And the serpent,
can it read my thoughts?
What do you know about that?
And the snakes, who
pose as women, what about them?

I didn't take medication.
But I said I took it.
I can't tell a lie because
my family meddles into my life.

Can women read my mind
like the serpent?
Is there a difference?
Why won't women accept my
roses? Is it because
they're dead? The roses I give them.



You work for the psychopaths.
You are not an American.
I hear an accent coming out
of your alien mouth. I am
on to you. You are not my
doctor. I am not your lab
experiment. I am smart
enough to figure things out
on my own. You better not
keep me on this floor. I have
medical problems. I do
not have mental issues. I
was brought to the wrong unit.
There is a bug in my brain
which crawled up there last summer.
I am sure it has grown to
gigantic proportions. It
needs to be extracted and
dissected. I want to know
what secrets the bug has sucked
up from my brain. I feel like
my memory is being
erased by this bug. If the
bug continues to exist,
my brain will be consumed and
I will have to remain on
this unit with psychopaths,
schizophrenics, and all
the manic-depressives of
the city. The bug whispers
my name. It has an accent.
I believe it is foreign.

Author bio:

Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal was born in Mexico. He works in the mental health field in Los Angeles, CA. His first book of poems, Raw Materials, was published by Pygmy Forest Press. His first chapbook, Without Peace, was published by Kendra Steiner Editions. A second chapbook will be available in December 2007 from Kendra Steiner Editions.

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