Sunday, February 24, 2008

Five poems by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

Five poems
by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal


He was the only one
who spoke English
amongst the other
day laborers at the
parking lot of Home
Depot. He laughed
to himself and seemed
to be jovial. He said
he cleaned windows.
He was not particular.
One day Joe was picked
up by the police
for making threats
against the citizens
of Los Angeles. He
asked the police to
wipe out Los Angeles
because he didn't think
the world would miss it.
Joe claimed he had a
special code, had ties
to the CIA, and was more
powerful than the
President. Joe claimed
he had been to war.
He did not hide behind
his father's influence
to avoid war. Joe said
he did not do drugs like
the President had. He
asked why did things
turn out so bad for him
when others get a pass?
Joe laughed to himself into
the fetal position.
He said he heard something
funny from way back when
he was in his mother's womb.
Joe said it was a secret.



Fragments of stars

Litter the skyscape.

I want to grab a fistful

And throw them like coins

Sparkling against the

Dark and dirty sidewalk.

I would not like

To touch the sun or dance

For rain. I am not

So elegant like my

Chinese sign of

The calendar says.

I do not consider

Myself a sheep, but a ram.



Can I have music in this place?

I would like a Sony Walkman.

When I pace these halls I want

Something different in my ears.

The voices I hear are nothing close

To soothing and it’s not music.

I need music therapy. I want to

Hear my old tapes and cds.

The only thing that kept me sane

When I was in high school and

College was my music. I don’t

Feel the same way about all the

Meth I took. I’m probably in here

Because of that and all the alcohol

I was drinking. I was just trying

To fit in, to have people like me.

I don’t know why it’s taking my

Mother so long to come and take me

Home. I hope she’s not listening to

The doctor. I don’t have Schizophrenia.

If she doesn’t take me home, I’m

Going to elope with Hector. He is

In here because he busted up a cop.

He is such a bad ass. I think he likes

The new girl, who looks like a dyke

Better than me. But we’re engaged.

He gave me his word the other day

That I can live with him and his family.



The soul


for a

bit of


Tired of

all the


the soul

comes out.

Like a

puff of

smoke or

dust the

soul spreads

out its


voice like

the songs

of birds.



My knives are sharper

than yours.

My tongue can't be

cut out.

So who do you think

will win?

I don't have much

to lose.

My voice is stronger

than yours.

My ears can't take it

some days.

So I grab knives and

poke at

the voice through my

ear hole.

All I do is draw

some blood.

The voice just laughs

out loud.

Author bio:

Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal's chapbook, Keepers Of Silence, came out on December 20, 2007, from Kendra Steiner Editions. Luis 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.

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