Heavy Machinery
I brought out the
heavy machinery, a
sharpened pencil, many
pencils. I
brought out two
notebooks. I wrote
the same poem many
times, changing
the words around to
make them seem
better. I always rush
things. I am an
economizer of time to
the detriment
of everything I write.
This time I thought
I would take my time.
A lot of my poems
are a race to the
finish. I give myself
a couple of minutes.
Times up in less
than five minutes,
sometimes in two or
three. Hence, many
short poems with
bare branches. I am
content doing
it this way. I do not
have centuries to
write. I consider
myself lucky to have
any time at all.
Poetry is the world to me.
I am fine without the
heavy machinery
and revision. Besides
I do not know
how long I have left
to say.
Follow the Clouds
I gazed with open eyes
at blue grey cloudy
skies.
I thought of ancient
times.
I kept an open mind.
The past is on rewind
time and again
with
death’s gaze falling
on me.
Still, I pretend that
I
will outlive
everything.
This keeps me hoping
for
better days and so
I
attempt to rewrite
what
history has in store
for me. I follow the
clouds disappearing.
I
will join them one
fine day.
Slept Like Death
I spent the night
away.
I spent the night so
far away.
I slept like death all
night
only to return to
life.
I slept on and on in
the clothes I wore to
work.
I took the hands off
all clocks.
I thought that I could
cease.
I slept in ruins and
wore a death mask all
night.
It was so dark in my
dream.
I slept like death
itself.
Luis
Cuauhtémoc Berriozabal lives in California and works in the mental health field
in Los Angeles, CA. His poems have appeared in Blue Collar Review, Lothlorien
Poetry Journal, Nerve Cowboy, Red Fez Publications, and Unlikely Stories.
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