Wednesday, August 26, 2020

Paz

—Poetry by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, West Covina, CA
—Public Domain Artwork



MILK SHAKE

I am watching
the milk shake.
I am waiting
for the spill.

I have time on
my hands and
my hands shake
like milk too.

Just like The Cure
song, I am
shaking like
milk. I am

about to turn
blue and fall
all over
the floor like

some piece of crumb
from a hard
cookie to
be devoured

by ants if it is
not swept up.
I watch it
all and weep.






PIECE OF SKY

A piece of the sky for sale.
A piece as small like a
slice of pie for sale.
How much could you afford?
I could sell it cheap.
I put it on layaway for you.
I will take a buck or two down payment. I will not charge
much interest, maybe
one percent or two.
I’ll throw in a small inch of a cloud.
You could squeeze out a
drop of rain. I will be waiting
on your offer or response.






THE FIRST DROP

Bleached clouds
appear in the sky.

A headless
rider gallops on.

The first drop
of rain misses me.

I cannot
avoid other ones.

Without
an umbrella I

hurry up
to a destiny

I had not
planned on. I found

an awning
big enough for two.

A pretty
woman laughing just

like me and

the rain causing this.






PEACE

After David Alfaro Siqueiros

Peace as a concept
works. A pinkish rose
held by an outstretched
hand toward the sky
works. In a mural it
works. I could touch it
with my eyes. I could
feel it in my heart.
Why can’t others see?
Why can’t others feel?
The word peace in
pinkish tones like the
pink rose graffitied
on a rock works. Peace
written in Spanish,
“Paz” works. It should
be written on every wall
that is erected at every
border wall in the world.
The more eyes see it,
the more hearts will
believe in the concept
of peace. 






NO ROOM

I went up the stairs
and found no room when
I opened the door.
It was the most strange
thing to witness. I
tell you I scratched my
head. Where did the room
go and hide? I went
out and I was in
my room. All I could
do was shout out, hey!
Then I went to bed.
I never slept so
well. My covers were
warm and my dreams screamed,
Wake up! Get up! But
I did not listen.
I slept for three hours
without tossing and
turning. I felt this
was my last goodbye.

_______________________

Today’s LittleNip:

OUT OF CONTROL
—Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

Spin out of control.
Hide your soul from the shadows.
Open up a star and
enlighten your curiosity.
The silver lining of
clouds disappear into the night.

_______________________

Welcome back to new SnakePal Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, and thanks to him for his fine poetry on a wacky Wednesday! For more about artist/poet David Alfaro Siqueiros, go to en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Alfaro_Siqueiros/.

Today from 1-2:30pm will mark the beginning of a free, 8-week Zoom workshop entitled “Pandemic//Planet/Protests: Poetry of Place” with
Califragile Editor Wren Tuatha. Info/Register by email at mexicoroad@consensus.net. Sponsored by Sacramento Poetry Center.

_______________________

—Medusa, waiting for my “small inch of a cloud” ~ ~ ~



 —Public Domain Cartoon Courtesy of Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA

















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