Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, W. Covina, CA
RATTLESNAKE IN THE TRUNK
He had the rattlesnake
in the trunk, drunk on
whiskey, the rattlesnake
not the man. He drove
steady as to not disturb
the uranium in the trunk,
not the rattlesnake that
was trying to figure out
how to work the trigger
of the gun in the trunk.
On the license plate in
the back read Hot Car.
The radio was blasting
Highway to Hell, every
window was down, and
there were dice in the
rearview mirror and
bullet holes in the trunk
for the snake to breathe.
He had the rattlesnake
in the trunk, drunk on
whiskey, the rattlesnake
not the man. He drove
steady as to not disturb
the uranium in the trunk,
not the rattlesnake that
was trying to figure out
how to work the trigger
of the gun in the trunk.
On the license plate in
the back read Hot Car.
The radio was blasting
Highway to Hell, every
window was down, and
there were dice in the
rearview mirror and
bullet holes in the trunk
for the snake to breathe.
I NEED TO SAY SOMETHING
I sit in my car.
I am waiting for a green light.
In an instant I hear a car horn blaring.
I open my eyes.
This is the wound I want to stitch up.
I think of the things I do not want to see.
In what language do you say no?
I need to say something.
I want to say nothing.
So, where do I begin?
I have a little time left.
It hurts not knowing the exact time.
I sit in my car.
I am waiting for a green light.
In an instant I hear a car horn blaring.
I open my eyes.
This is the wound I want to stitch up.
I think of the things I do not want to see.
In what language do you say no?
I need to say something.
I want to say nothing.
So, where do I begin?
I have a little time left.
It hurts not knowing the exact time.
SIGNS
I see no mystery in signs.
I see no mystery in signs.
It occurs to me
that I
seek clarity
in signs.
If I am the only one,
I make it a habit.
Nothing and
no one will change my mind.
I’m an island
of one. I know it.
My memory
finds signs tedious.
It withdraws.
It resists magic.
Suspiciously, I look past
the signs in the sky.
that I
seek clarity
in signs.
If I am the only one,
I make it a habit.
Nothing and
no one will change my mind.
I’m an island
of one. I know it.
My memory
finds signs tedious.
It withdraws.
It resists magic.
Suspiciously, I look past
the signs in the sky.
SALT
Sprinkle salt
on your grief,
salty tears
wet and warm.
Just enough
for a bowl
of soup, just
enough to
fill you up
before you
fall into
a deep sleep.
Sprinkle salt
on your wounds.
Lap the pain
with your tongue.
Just enough
to soothe the
pain away
if you can.
Sprinkle salt
on your grief,
salty tears
wet and warm.
Just enough
for a bowl
of soup, just
enough to
fill you up
before you
fall into
a deep sleep.
Sprinkle salt
on your wounds.
Lap the pain
with your tongue.
Just enough
to soothe the
pain away
if you can.
SLEEP AWAY
I sleep away.
I love this distraction.
So much happens in my dreams
that reality cannot take away.
I find comfort in this.
I sleep away.
I love this distraction.
So much happens in my dreams
that reality cannot take away.
I find comfort in this.
A MAN WHO FLIES
I am a man who flies
I am a man who flies
just high enough
to graze the wings
of a bird but
it does make me one.
I would not mind that.
If I could rise in the sky,
I would feel so alive.
I dare to fly, but no
man truly flies.
I only fly in dreams
but it is not the same.
I have no wings.
Courage can only take
me so far. Winged bird,
you have the freedom
men do not have, to
fly away from danger.
____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
FATE
—Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal
Fate takes you
to different
directions
so you can
witness miracles
or something
unexpected
and that is all
I have to say
____________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Luis Berriozábal for today’s fine poetry and original pix! The red skies in his photos are from his views of the Los Angeles fires.
to graze the wings
of a bird but
it does make me one.
I would not mind that.
If I could rise in the sky,
I would feel so alive.
I dare to fly, but no
man truly flies.
I only fly in dreams
but it is not the same.
I have no wings.
Courage can only take
me so far. Winged bird,
you have the freedom
men do not have, to
fly away from danger.
____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
FATE
—Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal
Fate takes you
to different
directions
so you can
witness miracles
or something
unexpected
and that is all
I have to say
____________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Luis Berriozábal for today’s fine poetry and original pix! The red skies in his photos are from his views of the Los Angeles fires.
—Photo by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal
A reminder that
Love Jones Vibes happens
tonight in Sacramento, 8pm.
For info about this and other
future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.
Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
Love Jones Vibes happens
tonight in Sacramento, 8pm.
For info about this and other
future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.
Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
