Four Poems

Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

 

 

GRAVEYARD WORM

The poet dreamt
of graveyards
in which he
buried his
favorite poems.
Six feet under
without a
coffin or urn,
he covered
them up with
dirt and mulch.
The poet dreamt
he was a
worm wiggling
his way toward
those words he
typed up one
drunken night.
He devoured
the titles
and each stanza.
When he was
done with each
poem he bled
black ink and died.

THE TWO PAINTINGS

I.

In the fire
he tossed his paints
as music played
in blazing colors

Our eyes caught
fire, our flesh ached,
the canvas came
alive inside us

II.

The fruit in
the bowl was real
enough to fill
our hungry eyes

The red wine
filled our thirst and
made us drunk from
where we observed


ONE NIGHT I SPENT IN THE DESERT

I can make a hundred dollars
An hour on my street corner
Selling alien acid to junkies.

This is primo stuff. I lucked
Into it one night I spent in the
Desert where I found this crater.

A giant spaceship had crashed
And created this hole. Bags of
This stuff were all around.

I gathered it all up in my backpack.
People are into this shit. When
They're on it they tell me they feel

Like if they were aliens, glowing
And shit, feeling like they could fly
Into outer space and kissing stars.



I MARRIED A MILLIONAIRE

Do you know who I am?
I am like Rockefeller.
That's how rich I am.

I married my twin,
who is like Rockefeller.
I have a rich twin.

I'm going to smoke
better cigarettes now
and sleep in a bed

where I could dream
a whole lot better,
because you know

I got married to
a millionaire. Now
every nurse in here,

every doctor and
social worker
you are all fired.

Copyright © Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal 2006

Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal was born in 1967 in Cuernavaca, Morelos (Mexico). He has lived in Los Angeles County since 1975 and works in the mental health field in LA. His first book of poetry Raw Materials was published in 2004 by Pygmy Forest Press. His broadside In the House of the Butterflies was published by New American Imagist. Luis poems have been published in Spanish and English. New Hope International reviewed poems of his that appeared in ZYX, Journeys and RawNervzHaiku. His poems wrap themselves in violent words, yet never lose sight of mankind's highest ideals. They are poems about poetry and about the art of the tale itself — what it means to be the storyteller or the listener. Pregnant with rage, these writings demand to be read, offering the wisdom of their author for the reader's dissection. He can be reached at: Cuatemochi@aol.com.