Out of Here
I come in from the
cold
to a warm bed and it
is
still not what I want.
In
my mind the wires have
been crossed and I can
only think of getting
back
into the streets, away
from
the warm bed, and the
roof
that seems like a
prison
cage. I want to look
up and
see the skies. I want
to look
to the left and to the
right
and see more skies and
free space in the
distance.
I don’t like walls or
locked
doors. The first
chance I get
to escape I am out of here.
Hanging On
Hanging on for dear
life
with arthritic fingers
and mouth-eaten
fingernails,
the drop is not small
at all.
If I wake up in time,
I could
save this body about
to fall.
I still need the
sleep.
The smart thing to
do
is to let my dream run
its course.
There will be time for
healing
and better days ahead.
My fingers turn to
wings
like those of a
sparrow
and I feel the wind on
my back
along with the fire of
the sun.
Winter feels like
summer.
My heart beats steady.
The long sleep has
done me well.
It is as if I had two different dreams.
She Hides
She hides her soul
and watches her tongue
from the crossroads
trickster.
She hides her eyes
from the vultures in
the sky.
She hides her heart
from every snake in
the grass.
She looks for
nothing
but a place to heal
before she loses herself.
Day Turns to
Night
Sit in the drinking
chair
until you fade away.
Drown those sorrows
as the day turns to
night.
The trees are speaking
to
night’s cool breezes
about
the flight of birds
and the coming
daylight.
A black bird sings to
the
white stars and yellow
moon.
My drink is cold.
I stopped counting at
nine.
There is no telling
what
the moonlight is
saying.
The trees have gone to
bed.
Soon I will go to
mine.
It is just about time
to save myself with sleep.
Let the Darkness Come
Close those blue eyes
ancient sky.
Let the darkness come
far and wide.
Lie in a daze, a
slumber of charcoal.
Go to sleep and
tomorrow shine like gold.
Fall asleep and rest
your weary eyes.
As the sun goes down
take your rest.
In the dark your star
eyes blink and blink.
Go to sleep with your
bright moon heart.
I will pull up a chair
and watch you nap.
Our slumbers will
result in duelling dreams.
It does not take much
to get tired.
Do me a favour and turn
off the lights.
Born in Mexico, Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozabal lives in California and works in the mental health field in Los Angeles. He is the author of Raw Materials (Pygmy Forest Press), Before and Well After Midnight (Dead Beat Press), Peering into the Sun (Poet’s Democracy), Songs for Oblivion (Alternating Current Press/Propaganda Press), The Book of Absurd Dreams (New Polish Beat), Everything is Permitted (Ten Pages Press), Make the Water Laugh (Rogue Wolf Press), and 7 chapbooks from Kendra Steiner Editions (Make the Light Mine, Without Peace, Overcome, Keepers of Silence, Still Human, Digging a Grave, and Garden of Rocks).
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