Thursday, December 02, 2021

Don't Be The Blind Spot

Art by Luis Berriozabal 
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of Joseph Nolan
Stockton, CA
—Poetry by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozabal, West Covina, CA


Begin to live.
Begin to laugh.
Now is the time.
It starts right now.

Do not turn back.
Do things you want.
Be kind to you.
Make your life grand.

Gestures of love,
all of the time,
begin to live.
Be your own voice.

Understand life.
Begin to see.
Discover love.
Surprise yourself.

Be one with you.
Be first and last.
Important days
have come for you.

The road is clear.
Love is all you
need. Do not stop.
Do not give up.


Dead to the sunlight,
dead to the moonlight,
not even sleeping,
you isolate yourself
being, becoming useless.

Sitting in your car
for more than a long
time. I see you there
averse to fresh air.
But that is what you do.
The tires need air too.
At day and night you
are clinging to life.

Dead souls are sad
to see, like the same
movie playing nonstop.
I see them all the time
living in hell in real life.



Salty sea
in your tears.
I weep in
vain for you
all these years
without you.

Leave it be.
Keep me small.
Go to sleep
with sorrow.
This abyss,
my heaven.


This roof is like a drum
and the rain is the percussionist
pounding the sticks at noon
nonstop, forever it seems,
hour after hour, and I suppose
the calm after the storm is coming.


Run up to the sky.
Make it run from you.
Do you know what would
be left? Do you know?
The sea would spill out.

Nothing makes sense so
we exaggerate, make
a thing more than it
is, more than it could ever be.



Don’t be the blind spot
that takes up space. Night
and day are equals.
The sky tolerates
each. The mountains
provide a little

background. One sun and
one moon give light to
the entire world.  Don’t
be that blind spot that
takes up space.  Sorrow
is hard enough. The
little stars in the
sky are magical,
mirrored in the sea.

Don’t be the blind spot
that takes up space. Wheels
on fire burn up the
road. Time presses on
and ghosts make haste as
they walk through doors and
walls. They are not in
your face with the smell
of death. Don’t be the
blind spot. Instead be
a bird that sings that
nobody sees. Hear
its song or go to

Today's LittleNip:

—Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozabal

The first thing I remember
I never had a second thought
of what I forgot to remember
about the first I cannot remember


Luis Berriozabal has joined us today from SoCal, a welcome guest in the Kitchen, as always. Luis has done a series of drawings on his calendar at work, and today there are more to accompany his poems. Thanks, Luis!
•••This evening (Thurs. 12/2), 6-8pm: Sac. Poetry Center and Mimi Miller host The Miller Party, SPC’s annual fundraiser at the beautiful home of Mimi Miller, 1224 40th St., Sacramento. No admission cost or minimum donation requested, but the first $30 of any donation will be applied to a new or continuing SPC membership. Vax cards and masks will be required. Catered food (Brasserie du Monde), raffles, readings (Bob Stanley, Alice Anderson, Traci Gourdine), music (Kent Lacin, Steve Bird, Patrick Grizzell).

•••Also this evening, 7pm, Poetry in Davis presents Susie Meserve, Mercedes Ibanez plus open mic (4 min. or 2 items) at the John Natsoulas Gallery, 521 1st St., Davis, hosted by Andy Jones. Please mask your vaccinated selves before entering the Gallery. Info:{"source"%3A"29"%2C"ref_notif_type"%3A"plan_user_invited"%2C"action_history"%3A"null"}&notif_id=1638303788709382&notif_t=plan_user_invited&ref=notif/.


—Art by Luis Berriozabal

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