Walls and More Walls

 

—Poetry, Photos and Artwork by

Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, West Covina, CA

A WALL AND MORE WALLS

There is always a wall
that protects me

from myself. There are
more walls put up

to keep the sky away.
I keep the light

out. There are more walls still
to keep the rain

out. Who does not love walls?
My walls save me.
Who does not love walls that
keep the world out?

 

 

 

 

THE ART OF STORYTELLING

After Ernst Meister

Is it a story
which I want to hear?
Is it a story
I might want to be in?

Will I be dead
of a horrible disease,
or the one of
fable where a wolf eats me?

Even losers get lucky.
That would be Tom Petty
singing. This is the art
of storytelling.

 

 

 

 

 

FAR ABOVE ANYWHERE

Far above anywhere I will ever go,
the burning star takes my sight.
My eyes begin to water and sting.
The blindness lingers for a long time.

Who could ever live on the burning
star? I speak the unspeakable.
But you know me by now. Only
Death and the devil could live there.

Yesterday clouds enveloped the
burning star.  Who could ever live
in a cloud? Earth angels I suppose.
They are not too abundant around here.

__________________

IN THE TEETH

Love kicks me in the teeth
leaving a mark of doubt.
I have let desire walk away.
It is fear that deconstructs
the way I see love. I take
small steps when I see it.
I do not follow blindly.
When it presents itself
I walk away before I fall.

I let it rage at someone else.
Its diabolic ways can’t touch me.

 

 

 

 

 

WHAT OF IT?

I come and go as I please.
I bring tigers along to
the hotel where I sleep
and dream away from home.

What of it? Do not tell me
what to do. I spend the night
drinking and looking out

the window gazing at the
fluffy clouds; each and every
one of them are in love with
the sky that lets them hang out.

___________________

SUSTENANCE

After Paul Valery

On footsteps
steadily paced
I walk towards you
and the finish line.

One step at
a time, two steps,
three, I walk to you
with these happy feet.

Your lips and
mine, you are love
and my future, you
are my sustenance.

 

 

 

 

 

WEARY AND WITHERING

Weary withering
flowers, do I face
a future like yours?
Your days are numbered.
The golden days are
on the decline. Like
you I wither. I’m
weary and not young
anymore. The rose
and lily die in
the garden. In time
they will be radiant
again. Young at heart,
I will rise again,
older but wiser.

______________________

Today’s LittleNip:

“Besides,” continued Julian, “you can slam down a phone like that. You can’t slam down a mobile. Imagine, a whole generation who’ll never know the joy of slamming down a phone.”

―Clare Pooley, The Authenticity Project

______________________

Welcome back to Luis Berriozábal, with his colorful poems and pix from the wilds of Southern California!

Busy day in NorCal poetry today, with a workshop in Modesto; D.R. Wagner and Dave Boles in Sacramento; and the Beast Crawl in Oakland. Click on Medusa's UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS (http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html) for details about these and other future poetry events in the NorCal area—and keep an eye on this link and on the Kitchen for happenings that might pop up during the week.

_____________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

 Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal

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